


Like Wind Through The Paddock

by OuterSpaceQueen101



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daniel ricciardo is the best coping mechanism, Drama, F/M, Formula One, Idiots in Love, Jos Verstappen's A+ Parenting, Lando is still the best boy even as a side character, Love/Hate, M/M, Max knows this, Multi, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Racing, Sexism, Slow Burn, Smut, Sports, Super license points? havent heard of her, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Williams racing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 74,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OuterSpaceQueen101/pseuds/OuterSpaceQueen101
Summary: Of all the many legendary drivers to line the Formula One Hall Of Fame over the years, perhaps no others story is more impressive nor more well known then that of Avalon Mimic's and her dominance over the sport for nearly a decade.Long before the woman was a champion though, she was just a girl with a dream. This is the story of the beginning. Her rookie year, her first victory's, her first losses. The year she made history, and united the grid behind her in the process.This is the story of Avalon Mimic, the first, but certainly not the last woman to be admitted into the F1 Hall Of Fame.This is how it starts.Aka an AU in which Williams survives and is saved by a woman ft. shenanigans with all our fav boys and Mr. Ginger Spice as the comic book villain that he is.
Relationships: Alexander Albon & Lando Norris & George Russell, Alexander Albon/Lando Norris/George Russell, Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo/Original Female Character(s), Max Verstappen/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 79





	1. The Beginning

This is how it starts.  
Four plane tickets bought on the same day at the same time. All from different locations, all to the same destination. In the following weeks, excited texts and calls are made. Plans are put into place and a shared dream slowly becomes set in stone. Soon, they will be together.  
On the first day of summer four girls, still alive with youth and possibility make their way home to each other. It is the first time they have all been together in a year, the longest time they have all gone without each other, the reunion is one long overdue. Tears and hugs are shared. Many stories will come later. Now is not the time.  
Home is where they are together but they still have to make it to the hotel.  
Cars are acquired. A white jeep and a red convertible. They have been planning this reunion for years, no expenses will be spared.  
They are in Italy, the old country, a beautiful world strife with foreign history. There is so much to do, to see, and so little time.  
They have plans too, goals for this trip. Goals to further their careers. Goals to further relationships. I wished to do both, and I did.  
***  
They explore a land they have never been in. Two of four of them were born here but came of age in far off seas alongside the other two. They are all tourists here in this new land.  
The first night there is a celebration. Acquaintances to be made. They are all in love with each other, sure. But distance and time have made them strangers in a way and they leap to understand each other once again. To share the intimacy once held between them. The kind that does not need speech for communication. Soon it will be there's once again.  
For now, they revel in the remaining love between them, still plenty to be passed around. In this little family, these girls are loved, this is clear to even the most casual of acquaintances. These girls are loved.  
For now, they are strangers, who are in love, as impossible as it may be. They sleep in a pile on the floor, limbs tangled and body warmth mingling, not able to withstand the distance after so long apart.  
***  
They quickly slip back into old routine, those that lead dragging the others out and about as they search out adventures together. They do not speak the language but they do not fear the unknown when they are together, all else slipping away. There are no mistakes together, together they are shameless, the rest of the world merely an inside joke they can't help but giggle at.  
***  
They are all young, and with youth comes beauty. Like flowers, they are all plucked from each other on occasion. Disappearing into back allies or secluded halls or gold-lined hotel sweets with fleeting strangers who's foreign tongues promise passion. They all disappear from time to time, but like the ocean, all four of them are never slow to return. Coming back home like the tide. They have been away from each other for so long, very little can distract them for any reasonable amount of time.  
***  
And so we spent the last weeks in the country even more inseparable then usual. In just two weeks from now, I and the women I loved most in this world would once again be oceans away from each other. My sister would be flying back to London where she would conclude her final year of law school. Flower too would be returning to school, starting her first year abroad in Japan. Just 3 more years till she was able to start working in embassies around the world.  
Thankfully Sara and I would still have another 2 weeks after that together in the absence of the others, time which would surely be spent roaming the Italian countryside. But even that would come to a end too soon, both of us planning on flying back to California together, before retreating to the solitude of our separate UC campuses.  
The assumption had been that, we at least, would have been able to see each other more in the past year but freshmen year had kept the both of us busy, her timeless commitment to the study of anatomy while I followed in my sister's footsteps and studied Law. I liked my studies, was endlessly greatful to be entrenched in topics of study that actually holds some interest for me.  
Even so, I couldn't help the twitching, nagging sense that had been burning in my stomach for quite some time now.  
The itch for more, the voice that whispered in the back of my mind that this wasn't the life I was supposed to be living. But I had made the choice years ago. A promise whispered in the fallout, while I was still bloody and broken, a mangled mess against a wall.  
So the itching stayed that, an itch, and I got drunk off the love I found myself in in the presence of these women, my sisters, my home.  
***  
By the time the summer starts to draw to a close, they are slow. No longer rushed by the first days of excitement as a tourist, neither curious with the tentative exploration of a new tenant. No, now theyre just lazy. Long hours are spent first in bed, then at restaurants or parks, drinking in the beauty of a world that they have now come accustomed to as theres, but know will no longer be in mere days.  
They are lazy, basking in they're last days together.  
***  
And yet, nothing is more exciting, at least for me, then our final big event. One of the reasons for our destination of choice. For why we had all met here, now, to carry out the contents of a promise made in more difficult times. In the long days of our adolescence spent in lock down, unable to be together and waning without the presence of each other. Too young to withstand the distance. In the dark days, they had made a promise for better ones.  
Now, in said days, they intended to keep it.  
***  
On a Friday it all starts, really starts.  
They have tickets for all three days and even though testing is by no means the main event, all four still go out to watch, to observe, and most importantly, be together while they still can. For all but one, this is still mostly a foreign game, rules blurry and commitment not entirely there. Even still they are the loudest on the stands. Screaming when they are supposed to, screaming when they aren't, together, everything is funny, a joke just for them.  
By the second day they know they have attracted attention, can feel the eyes on the backs of their necks. They are loud and happy, young and beautiful, they are not easily ignored.  
***  
We are aware of this of course. We have all experienced far too much to know anything on the contrary. We know who we are and what we look like, especially here, in a boy's game. Here the young gods play with their fast toys and they're just-too- enthusiastic girls. We know how we are perceived, our giggling little mass of ponytails and exposed skin. We know this and we use it.  
By the third day, we find ourselves watching the climax of the weekend slowly gear up from far above the track in one of the luxury spectator's boxes belonging to one of the many anonymous men who flock to these events, to wealthy to be named. Money, more than most will ever know, will ever dream of, exchanges easily here, between laughs and cold glasses slick with condensation.  
It is not a world any of us come from or belong in. We are tourists here as we have been all summer, basking in the new world around us, safe in eachother.  
***  
It, of course, all only goes to shit once we are without eachother. The race is all fire, all sparks flying and debre on the tracks from beginning to end. Even high above the stands, we can feel the excitement, can't help but get lost in the chaos of it all.  
And then it is over. Winners are declared and crowned victorious. Others sink back into the commotion, destined to lick their wounds and hope for better luck in the days to come.  
In the clamor, I slip away, already carrying myself differently in the absence of my family. So many times I dreamed of this moment, of this place. Alone, I want to brush my fingers against the walls. Walk the same halls that the people I idolize most in the world have. For the three women who love me, they love this for me. That is not hard to see. But I love this because racing will always be the love that got away, the high that I still can't forget right before I go to bed at night and wake up in the morning.  
This track will always be a fantasy, just slightly out of reach, so close I can almost taste it.  
On the very outskirts of the paddock, I look out at the world. All I can see is track, stretching out and disappearing into the distance. I can't see it from here but I know where the track curves, out of sight. If I close my eyes I can see the whole thing in front of me, each grid hard-wired into me since childhood when I still clung to a naive dream that this would be my future. That life seems so far off now, lost to reality in the intervening years. Still, the loss burns that much more so close to this place. The ghosts of my heroes follow me around here, examples of a different life, one that in another life, could've been mine.  
I am so lost in my revelry that I do not notice that I am not alone till it is starkly obvious, the man next to me making himself impossible to ignore, the way he injects himself into space beside me. I quell my instinct to strike, to lash out, only too aware of my tendency to forget the world around me. Far too often do I find myself zoning out of this world, then being pulled back into it, disorientated and on the offensive. For this reason, I do not immediately recognize the man next to me as he mimics my stance, bending over slightly so he can rest his upper body against the railing of the paddock. Hes talking, not looking at me but his lips are moving as he looks at the world sprawling out in front of us. I don't hear what he says, confused as to why this man is next to me and distracted by his smile as he looks back at me.  
It's a smile id know anywhere, have watched a thousand times on the little screen of my phone as I watched YouTube video after video, trying to quench my insatiable thirst for this sport vicariously.  
And just like that, I find my self on a clear Sunday evening in Monza, looking out at a track I have only ever heard about, and talking all things weather with Daniel Ricciardo.  
I am keenly aware of my youth and my beauty. As someone who has not always been beautiful, who grew into it only with time and puberty, I am uniquely aware of how I am seen in this world. And how it benefits me now. I am not stupid, I know why Daniel Ricciardo stands next to me, making small talk, playing a game as old as time. He knows why I indulge him on this night, or at least he thinks he does. In time he will be robbed of this misguided impression.  
***  
We talk about everything and nothing and when I return to the arms of my family, it is with a twinkle in my eye that promises of explanation worth hearing, and a key card burning a hole in my back pocket.  
Little do I know it, but this is the start of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is my first fic for the formula 1 fandom and I really hope you all enjoy it and keep reading! Additionally, it is also my first time writing with an oc as the primary character in the story, as I felt it was necessary in order to examine the sport the way I want to in this fic. Also this story contains polyamory, cause it's f1, everyone sleeps with everyone!


	2. When Left To Our Own Devices

A week later 4 women stand at the entrance of a major airport. People rush by all around them, but to the four of them, they are the only ones there. For two of them, this is their last goodbyes for the foreseeable future. School and responsibilities beckon them back to reality. For the other two girls, this is both a goodbye and a reminder to savor these last two weeks together. To not regret a single second of this little break they get from their lives and future goals. There are tears shed and goodbyes repeated until they cannot be heard anymore.  
And then four girls become two, untethered for two more weeks. They vow that night not to let it go to waste.  
"No regrets" they both agree, clinking they're glasses together. No regrets.  
***  
And that's how I convince Sara that it's a good idea to go. How I convince myself too. It's how we find ourselves at yet another f1 event, just a week before we are slated to leave, Daniels invite clutched tightly in my hand, ready to defend myself with it like a weapon at the first sign of a fight. In the lack of intimacy provided by my family, I am starkly aware of how little I fit in here, among gods. Even Sara, with her easy charisma, slips into the crowd soon enough. Without the lure of our little family to keep her by me I am thrust into the harsh reality of where I am. To how similar this feels to playing with fire.  
Daniel does his best to convince me otherwise. I don't tell him how nervous I am, how much I regret coming and how mad I am for having regrets right now. I don't tell him but he can sense it somehow. Keeps trying to make me laugh, distract me with silly words and little touches.  
It is not lost on me that his kindness comes with expectations. I doubt I would even be here if not for the fact that I have yet to give him what he so clearly wants, although this is not the first time we have been together our initial meeting.  
This game we play, this game of cat and mouse. It is one I am well accustomed to. I enjoy the role of the chased. It is one I play often. But now I play it for different results. Clinging onto Daniel for as long as I can. To cling to his world, the one that I can't help but wish was mine. I draw out our time together, only partly to make our climax that much sweeter, but also to prolong our already fleeting flame. I know how this game will end, am far too aware of how our age separates us and how little permanence exists between us. I only pray I will have enough strength to go on once it is all over.  
***  
Even so, he plays the part so well, clearly well practiced. We begin to make our way around the room, gradually, and only once I have relaxed under his constant contact, him leaning down so he can whisper to me as we walk, mingling with anonymous million and billionaires, too caught up in eachother and our surroundings to be anything other then tactile towards one another. We both know what hes doing. Showing me off to each one of his friends as much for my benefit as his. For him, this is power. I am young, beautiful, in every aspect a prized possession. I can see in their eyes too, how much of a commodity I am. Knowing how usual this ritual must be, uniform this peacocking is, I can't help be bask in their still evident desire.   
Tonight these men are gods among billionaires, very little is off limits or desired for. Its intoxicating to know that I am desired for.  
When we've made our rounds, long after I've felt too many pairs of eyes burn through the back of my skull as I walked away, the real fun can begin. As benefactors and team principles alike rub shoulders and converse without actually saying anything, the drivers do what they do best, they entertain.   
Today's event is sponsored by one of the many car companies with fingers in the billion-dollar pie that is f1. They've just released a new model for one of their luxury high-speed cars and in celebration, they, in a truly Frankensteinean fashion, have inserted an f2 level engine into the back of it so the drivers can give their many sponsors a taste of the dream, or the speed anyway. One by one the drivers of formula one take the tricked out sports cars for a spin, likely scaring the shit out of their passengers in the process. All in good fun, of course.  
Were not at one of the official tracks, one of the ones included in the annual grand prix, but that's not to say its an easy track, some of it disappearing into the dense forest on the edge of the property. This grid my not host hundreds of thousands of screaming fans each year, but ghosts of legends past still haunt these halls all the same.  
Finally, as apparently a sort of surprise, each of the 20 f1 drivers disappear momentarily, before all pulling out in their official race cars. Whoever is hosting this little party clearly sparred no expense, just thinking about the money one must have to be able to rent the drivers of f1 like clowns at a birthday, its mind boggling.   
I watch on as each driver takes a lap. They're not racing, per say, but its clear there's some competition between the drivers as they vie for the fastest time on a track. When its over, I want to know who's won, too distracted in the show to keep time myself but when I turn to ask my sister or flower they are not there. They are so, so far away now.   
***  
The laps devolve into donuts and I leave my place by the spectators windows to seek out my remaining friend. Something to ground me. The energy has changed. It's not just excitement that I can feel from the other spectators, everyone that got to witness whatever awesomeness that was, but the energy that now makes me want to punch a wall, or scream into the void or get behind a car going 300 mph.  
All I can think about is getting behind the wheel of one of those cars on that track.   
***  
But Daniel finds me first and when he returns to me he is different. Thrumming all over from the thrill of driving. It's intoxicating just to be around. And just like that, I know im lost to it.  
I see my chance when it happens and do my best to take it "no regrets" I repeat over and over in my head as I press myself up against his side before he can make his way to the newly revealed food like the rest of the people here. While no one is on the track, while no one is watching the track, this is my chance.  
I whisper as much in his ear, expressing my delight at watching him drive and my own desire to do the same. It's something heard a thousand times before. An easily veiled reason to get him alone. Even so, he agrees easily enough, giving in as I plead into his ear. I already know I have won before I even touch him, delighted too see how quickly he is undone, I commit it to memory. Vowing to never forget the ecstasy I feel in this moment, even in the dark days I know are lurking just on the horizon, to cherish the time when I had a god at my feet and an f1 supercar under me.  
***  
It doesn't take long for Daniel to convince the few mechanics still left in the garage to change out the wheels, and then hes jumping into the car and slowly pulling out into the pit lane, me jogging lightly after him. Then, when we're just out of sight of the few people left milling around the garages, he stops and jumps out. Leaning against his car as he waits for me to catch up, looking for all the world like a careless hotshot, bored by the few seconds he must wait. It looks good on him.  
I tell him as much when I catch up to him, pressing my smaller frame against his once again. "You look good like this, like a young god" I whisper to him, his smile, that famous thousand watt smile, directed at me, and just me. So I don't miss it when it falters. When that perfect smile drops just slightly, just for a blink, and then its gone altogether and hes laughing.  
Laughing and leaning down to kiss me. We slid together easily, already well accustomed to this at least when it comes to the two of us. He pulls me even closer to him, one of his hands splaying across my lower back while the other slides further up until it cups my neck, gently applying pressure so I tilt my head up to give him better access. In this moment, with him, I can see it, for a split second, I can see the other life, the one that feels both closer and further away then ever before as I spend more and more time with this man. He is fire, this man and his life, and I will soon be a victim, I can just taste it on him.  
***  
He insists on going first. "Let me be your teacher" he tells me with a wink. "Your sexy teacher" he laughs before sliding on his helmet, the only type of gear he has opted to wear under the circumstances, and slides away, only getting louder as the distance between us grows. He does two laps, instead of one, showing off, speeding past me in a way that makes my red hair whip in my face and my sun dress billow around me. When he finally slows before me the thrum, the electricity of the speed, its back ten fold and we get distracted for another long moment, pressing close to eachother in the shade of the track, losing time to the feel of one another.  
Finally we break apart and I am taking a deep breath as I slide my body where his was until moments ago.  
This is not fire I play with anymore. This is the house burning down while I chill on the couch and eat chips. I kiss him before I put the helmet on and pull away. He'd spent a good 15 minute showing me how everything in the car worked before we'd even left the pit lane, Daniel visibly taking the opportunity to show off. What he doesn't know is none of his explanation is necessary. It's like riding a bike. Once a racer, always a racer. Plus I've spent enough late nights obsessing over very aspect of the new 2023 cars that on a good day, I would probably bet good money on my own ability to build one my self, let alone drive the things.  
The first lap, I slid along the grid, getting a feel for the track and its turns. Committing it to memory, to instinct. The fastest car I've driven recently is the convertible and I come alive with the thrum of the untameable engine beneath me.   
Daniel had told me to keep it under 90. I'm a child playing the game of gods and one only wearing a helmet at that.   
But before long, I know its no use. I give in.  
I am lost to the flame and instinct kicks in.  
***  
Far above the party goes on. Music filters through hidden speakers and drink and food flow freely. Only a couple people remain close enough to observe the happenings on the track, but those that are, watch with wrapped attention as Daniel Ricciardo's race car speeds around and around on the track down below, picking up speed with each lap, clearly pushing the limit of the car. For minutes, what feels like hours, 10 or so strangers watch on as the car again and again zooms faster past them, pushing the limits when the car, by all means, should've spun out ages ago. 'Has the f1 driver suddenly become suicidal?' a few of them wonder. Even so, impossibly so, the car finally slows down. Finally the spectators can breath easily. And seek out a much needed drink. "Adrenaline junkies" they think, and fade into the party.  
No one sees as the car turns onto its last lap, perfectly. And then spin out.  
***  
Then Daniel finally catches up to me, he is winded. Running half the length of the track will do that to a person. Hes out of breath, but he still manages to go ape shit the second hes close enough to see me waving at him, perched on the car where it sits across the track. It's a shame hes gone and gotten upset, im sure I look quite good sitting on his car like this. Like a very expensive house cat stretching out on a very expensive piece of furniture.  
"What the fuck was that" hes yelling, before hes even 15 feet from me. "Do you realise how dangerous that was? I mean what the actual fuck?! Do you want to die? Cause that's a fucking sure fire way to do it right there. Take the car out with you like a fucking kamikaze!" hes close to me now, up in my face and then away again. Pacing as he continues to yell. I take this time to jump off of the car. I'm still a little wobbly, my body electric, every nerve ending turned to hyper attention. I am a bomb that's already gone off. I am a thousand emotions all at once, so fucking high on adrenaline ile that I don't know if im gonna laugh or cry or throw up. Mabey all three.  
But daniels still pacing. If he doesn't calm down soon people are going to start coming over to see what all the fuss is about. The few people who witnessed him execute those perfect laps just seconds before would surely wonder why it is then that hes going ballistic right now.  
"Daniel" I say, trying to get his attention. I have to say it again before he seems to hear me and finally stops his pacing, at least for now. I let the silence stretch for a second, suddenly over whelmed by the events of the day. The way hes looking at me doesn't make it any easier either, that signature smile replaced by a tight jaw, those laughing eyes gone cold. It's not a side of him I've seen before and I am struck by what I have done. By what this means for my own future, my own resolve. I'm I really about to throw it all away on a pipe dream I already barely survived the first time around? Will I survive giving it up the second time around?  
But I can't think about it now. I bottle everything im feeling up. Seal it away in the recesses of my mind for darker days when I have time to stew on all the things I could've done differently, could've done better.   
I put on my own gigawatts smile and take a step toward the man who still stands opposite me. His stance tense and guarded. "Baby" I croon as I take a slow step toward him. I take it as a good sign that he doesn't take a step back in response. "I didn't mean to make you mad" I tell him, giving him my most sincere smile. It's all an act of course. "I didn't know I was going that fast, swear to God. I guess I just got carried away, you of all people can understand that." I give him my biggest puppy eyes as I gain more ground towards him, the one's that even my family can't say no to. When I reach him, wrapping my arms around him, I can feel his resolve in the way he gives into the touch, I know in that moment I've won. At least for now.  
Even still I move closer, looking up at him through heavy lids and slightly parted lips. "I'm sorry I scared you" I whisper in the little air left between us. Later, in a glass house by the sea, I show him just how sorry I really am.  
***  
In the morning a young girl makes her way home just as the world starts to wake. She drives fast on the empty roads, her eyes vacant and unclear. She is lost in thought, lost to all the possibilities of her life, lost to all the regrets she carries with her. In a week all will return to its natural state. In a week, she will once again be alone, left to solitude and her studies, and her stable future. She knows exactly how her life will go from here, but for now, while the world still sleeps around her, the girl can dream of a different life. One that was very nearly hers.  
***  
Across the world four girls hunker down to wait out the dark days. Alone they are different. Less vibrant, less alive. They dream of the spring days when they will be together again, none of them aware of what is to come.  
It will take three weeks for the grainy video to surface on the web, one more for it to begin to pick up traction, even longer for it to reach those who wield power in this game. It doesn't matter though, in time everyone will sees the video. In time, everyone will know of the anonymous girl who logged multiple laps faster then any f1 drivers before her.  
In time, the girl wont be anonymous.   
But for now the dark days resume and the taste of fire fades with each.


	3. Skyline Boulevard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: this fic is now explicit, consider yourself warned

I have been home for all of five days but already the summer seems to be tinged with a rosy glow, certain parts fading as others come in stark clarity. Already the events of this summer lapse into memory, a dream that just of easily could've all been imagined. Without my family, the ghost of the joy I felt this summer seems to be just that- a dream, make-believe, unreal.  
I disconnect. Throw myself back into my studies with total abandon. I am an addict, newly relapsed, desperately trying to forget the taste of my last high. Of what it felt like to be on fire.  
Day in day out I sleep, study, sleep. Sometimes, when im feeling fancy and shit, I even eat. But the food just turns to ash within me and that too soon becomes an unnecessary. I am adrift, alone in my corner of the world. I devote my self to academics, all else fades away.  
***  
In response to the shocks of relapse, the girl, still young enough to be called that keep in mind, loses herself to distraction.   
***  
For her, she believes this is the end.  
She is wrong.  
***  
Around the world, in response to her little 'relapse' people are talking. Not yet people of importance, but soon enough them too. Soon she will have the eyes of the F1 world on her. Soon she will have the eyes of the real players in this game. Little does she know it, but her presence has already caused the movement of millions.  
For her, she believes this is the end.  
She is wrong.  
This is the start.  
***  
I am clean for all but 3 weeks.   
The next time I get a fix, a peek into that world on fire, it comes as a shock. Like a virgin, I am high with no warning, all systems firing with no preparation, no idea what I am in for till I'm already too deep.   
It happens where I think I am safe. In the dorms, in the lounge. It is just for a second. For a second I am giving in, looking up at the communal screen in the corner where a few boys watch with wrapped attention. A second is all I need though. In just a second I watch as Daniels car, so familiar after my own time in it just weeks prior, makes contact with another car, it all happening too quick for the other to be discernable before Daniels car is up in the air. All four tires in the air before he's on the ground again, vehicle shaking with impact as it skids off the track. And it doesn't stop there. Skidding for almost 15 feet before crashing, hard, into the wall, the left side of the car crumpling like a Coke can underfoot.   
All around me life goes on. Four boys stand around a fuzz ball table, causing a commotion of their own. A couple stands in front of the two vending machines, wrapped up in each other as they loudly negotiate prospective snacks. And further, outside the floor-length windows, the Santa Cruz hills roll into the distance. Life goes on around me, but in those seconds, those long seconds before Daniel moves, raising himself out of the crumpled car and walking dejectedly away, I can feel the last desperate sliver of resolve not to text him quietly peter out inside on me.  
When I return to my dorm I am quick to return to my studies, but not before I'm texting the number I already know I shouldn't.  
It's not till hours later when the sun has started it's decent in the sky, do I re-emerge, tendons cramping in my hands from devotee note-taking, the rest of my body numb from lack of motion. It takes me another hour still, lost to the much-needed therapy of a hot shower on tight muscles before I am checking my phone.  
But when I do I am all too quickly entirely awake and present.  
'I'll be home in Cali tonight. Wanna go for a drive?' The text reads. For a second I am back, high above the private track in Italy. I can still taste the memory, lost in foreign elegance, I had pressed my body flush against Daniel and asked him for the same as he did to me now.  
There is no hesitation when I responded with a single text.  
"When should I be ready?"  
***  
When he pulls up to the parking lot outside of my building it is early evening, the soft sunlight bouncing off the pristine chrome of his car. Of course, he brought the Porsche. Daniel Ricciardo, never one to go unnoticed.  
***   
For long hours we drive, winding in-between the Santa Cruz hills, golden hour coming and going, spilling through the hazy fog of the redwoods in rays of shattered light. And when the sun sets, light giving into dark, we flit along the California coast, the moonlight dancing on the water in the far, far off distance. There had been quick, hasty words between us when I first got in the car, ones of greeting and little meaning, but we have long since lapsed into silence, a surprisingly comfortable one, given the fragility and newness of our relationship but the roar of the engine underneath us makes up for any noise supposedly required between us.  
Even so, in a still moment, while we wait for a green light, I find myself reaching out, tentatively intertwining our fingers. He grabs my hand back confidently, sliding me an easy smile. The exhaustion in his eyes isn't lost on me. I wonder how long today's defeat will haunt him. I wonder if he might have another reason to want company right now, besides for the obvious one my presence has up until now usually entailed.  
The next time he slows enough for my voice not to have to compete with the engine I squeeze his hand in mine. "I know it might not seem like it right now, but I promise you, today is just another day. Tomorrow the sun will come up and the world will continue to turn, there will be other races to be won. Plenty triumph is yet to be had. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but you will be okay." He doesn't say anything. Doesn't even look at me. He just raises our hands where they are interlocked and presses a long, sure kiss to my knuckles, never taking his eyes off the road.  
***  
That night, in a cozy little inn on the side of the highway in a town aglow in twinkle nights, made that much more inviting to those passing through, he fucks me slow, holding me close all the while. We're well-practiced, made even better by the fact that we are already well acquainted with each other like this. But this time it's different. Feels less like an exchange and more like a confession.   
I come three times before he's done with me. First with his head between my legs, him still fully clothed while I am laid out before him, naked and prone, his to deal with as he sees fit. Then he is inside of me, holding close as we slide together, our breath mingling in the little space between us. In our times before I had sat astride him, him watching as I maintained control over our mutual pleasure. Now he curls over me on the bed, my legs wrapped around him as he controls the pace. I allow him this power between us, but for whose benefit, I'm not quite sure. When I eventually come on him he squeezes me even closer, bottoming out and whispering quiet, filthy things in my ear. He only stops when he chokes, a soft, exhilarating little moan spilling from his lips when the muscles around where we connect tense, the aftershocks of my second high still sparking through my body with little warning.  
Finally, I come for the third time when we have finally both lain down when the lights are off and I am in his arms, the feel of his body wrapped around me making me drowsy and compliant, so rarely does college hook up culture a lot time for cuddling while sober, I make sure not to waste this opportunity.  
One of his arms is snaked beneath my neck, stretching out on the pillow beneath our heads, the other slug over my hip, his hand rubbing lazy circles on my stomach. The lights are off and the whole world might as well be asleep outside of this tiny little room.   
The only thing keeping me from drifting off fully is his damn fingers, his hand that rubs my stomach, the one that ever so often slips beneath the waistband of the panties I had slipped on sometime after he was inside of me and before the light was turned off. I'd only brought one extra pair and if he was going to cause make me soak these too the least he can do is be quick about it.  
If not for the movements of his hand, I might have mistaken him for being asleep, his breath even on the back of my neck, his body, at least the vast majority that is pressed up against me, is still, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. It is comforting and intoxicating and makes me drowsy beyond words. I've always slept better in the arms of another.   
I can't now though, not with what his hand is doing. It's lower now, more routinely slipping past my waistband, it's still not enough though, not even close. I know what he wants, a reaction. I'm all too happy to indulge him if it means I can get what I want.  
I rotate my hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding up to try to get his fingers closer to that sweet spot between my legs while also firmly pushing my ass into his still soft length.   
I know I've won when a soft little groan falls from his lips, I can feel a smile curve his face against the back of my neck, and his hand slips all the way into my pants. I come like that, eyes closed and breath shuddering in my throat. Both our bodies still and relaxed in the soft of night, except for the rapid movements of his fingers on my clit, swiftly pushing to the brink of yet another orgasm.   
I start to curl in on my self as the first waves of pleasure hit me, soft breathless moans falling from my lips, but his other hand, now tight to my chest with a hand over my breast, holds me to him. He holds me close as I shake and moan until finally I jerk away from his now overstimulating fingers and let out a little cry, my eyes staying closed all the while. Then it's over.  
Finally, Daniel Ricciardo stops thrumming, twitching, fidgeting, and just goes still around me.  
Like that, I sleep through the night for the first time since I still had my family with me.  
***  
In the morning two lovers wake in each other's arms, where they do not know each other in mind, they make up for in familiar touches. Breakfast is eaten between shafts of hazy morning sunlight and before long the two lovers are fleeing the room they slept in, pulled back into the land of the living.   
On back roads encased by eternal redwoods, a car disrupts the serenity of the scene, gone before any living thing can truly register it. Even after the car is gone though, the sounds of a high and happy giggle is left chiming in it's wake.  
Unlike the day prior, today the girl is the one perched behind the steering wheel, screaming and laughing, her smile making her eyes seem to shine even brighter as the car roars beneath her small frame. She's buckled in tight and all her focus lies on the road stretching out before her and the warm hand, steady even at the pace she's pushing the car into, wrapped around her upper thigh. She doesn't turn to look at him, doesn't dare take her eyes off the road, even still she can feel the way his eyes are on her.   
The man watches the young women beside him in the same way she looks out at the open road. They don't talk. There's no need, not when the two are so engrossed by a shared love.  
They don't talk they just drive, losing time in one another and the feel of the wind, nothing can touch them at this speed.  
***  
It's late in the day when we roll into the lot in front of my building. Earlier then the day before though, and I don't miss the eyes that follow us in the Crayola crayon that is Daniels "baby" (affectionately named Silvio) as we slide to a stop before my apartment. Amidst college loans and student debt, this blatant show of wealth does not go unnoticed around here. Seeing all the eyes on us as I pull in, I can already feel the need to escape, to hide away, but when I open the door, flight on my mind, my partner in adventure is already there, that thousand-watt smile turned up to full power and aimed straight at me.  
On first instinct, I had planned on shooing him away, uncomfortable with so many eyes on me where I live, but where he can come and go as he likes.   
But all too soon I know this may very well be the last time I will see him, at least like this, like mine.  
I'm hit by an unexpected sort of sadness. The kind that you don't know will be there till the person who caused it is already long gone and all you can do is hunker down and hope that you survive till better days. I had known fully the kind of fire I danced with when playing with this man, just hadn't expected this, the man the myth the legend, to be the spark that lit the flame. All too quickly this game feels a lot bigger than just a girl and a boy and a car.  
It feels like a life, far more then what I expected, far more then I know I will get.  
I know I should pull away. Take the sunshine where I can get it and be thankful for today. I know I should send this man before me away, but instead, I pull him closer to me, only mere inches away already, lining our bodies up, familiar, where I lean against the neon monstrosity. Hes still smiling as he shuffles up even closer, quick to wrap me up in his arms, fingers sliding over my shoulders my back my waist, never one to be still, especially not now, not when he's alive off of so much second-hand speed, one would think he'd just made podium when I was, in fact, the one who had been pushing the limits of his already speed-limit-be-damned 'Silvio' just moments before. He smiles. Birds sing.  
"Your amazing" he whispers, a live wire under my fingers.  
All I can do is smile in the face of his unexpected flattery, hiding what is sure to be a blush on my cheeks, distracting him with a tug even closer to my already close body.  
He's comes, all too willingly of course, and for long minutes we stay like that, leaned up against the car, hands lazily wrapped up in each other, sure to keep it PG for all the watching eyes, as he slides his tongue along my bottom lip and I open up to him, no fight to be had, not after his giddy words that leave me feeling like I am way in over my head.  
This isn't the world I'm used to. The one I thought would be mine mabey- a very long time ago, but definitely not one I am well accustomed to now.  
But as I stand there, a young god under my touch, and a taste, a promise of speed, the speed I am capable of under me, all I can think is yes, oh yes, I could get used to this.  
***  
Soon they will be oceans away from each other, for now, the lovers whisper goodbye, and, when one of them drops a casual, almost reflexive, 'this was fun we should do it again', and the other replies, with equally cool 'yes of course' they both find there is an unexpected sort of sincerity in the words. An amount of truth neither of them is quite prepared for, yet helpless to deny.   
That night, as they lie, already on opposing sides of the world, they mirror each other, for all they care, alone in the world, the only light being that of the phone screens they hold before their faces as they lie awake in their respective beds.   
'admit it' she texts, carrying on an already almost exhausted conversation.  
'you liked it'  
'you're a crazy woman' is the only reply she gets from the usually- sometimes insufferably talkative man. In the dark and solitude a petite female form, swallowed by covers, giggles into her sweater sleeve, not feeling very lonely at all.  
'what can I say, I guess I'm just a woman with a need for speed' world's away the words are read with an accompanying snort, followed by a quick reply.   
'oh ik, I think I left my stomach somewhere on the 35' for a second two minds are one, both envisioning a shared memory, one of sunlight soaked back roads and the roar of power underneath their bodies, making both of them alive in a way so few could ever understand. He had seen it in her, saw the fire that burned within his own body when all else faded away but the road beneath you. He is helpless to deny it.  
Hesitation, a lapse in easy conversation, then-  
'i hope you can handle it' it's a risk. A challenge, like stepping out into thin air. She waits to see if he will be there.  
Flames lick up her fingers, into her bloodstream and then into her heart. With a disgruntled grunt and a lack of prompt enough response, covers are being thrown aside, falling and crumpling. Discarded as she bounds from the bed, a mess of limbs and still slightly damp hair as she wrestles with a hoodie, sneakers and the key to her car.   
One thing is on her mind, the need to burn, highway 1, along the water, the only place she wants to be right now.  
The last thing she sees, before she is throwing her phone aside and disappearing out the door, is his replying text message.  
A single winking face, and a promise of assurance, a fire rekindled for good this time.  
It is only later, when the sun rises and another day brings another headache, that she sees, first, the text.  
From her sister. Unique only in that it is sent to her directly rather than on the group chat with the other two girls that might as well be blood too. Nothing is unspoken between the four of them, well almost nothing.  
'have you seen this' it reads, a link attached. The words aren't confrontational, aren't full of malice like the girl can't help but feel deserving of. Not when she watches the almost two-minute video, the video that already has just under 5 million views and counting, her eyes glued to the tiny car as it races, fast, almost impossibly fast around the race track, seeming to pick up speed every time it reappears from behind the dense forest hiding part of the track in the distance of the property.   
Even before the unrecognizably tiny figure comes to a stop and jumps out, pulling off her helmet to reveal flowing red hair, she knows, with a sinking sort of dread, what this video is. Can still remember the feel of that supercar under her.   
And her sister knows it too. Up until now, this has just been flirting. Dancing with a dream she turned her back on long ago. But now there is no hiding it. If she does not yet grasp what has happened, what will happen, her sister has. She's given into the chase, gone back to fight for the one that got away.   
Even if she doesn't know it yet, her sister already grieves for her from a world away, knowing that this time, her sister will not walk away when she begs her to. This time, her sister will get her dream, or die fighting for it with her very last breath.  
With all this in mind, the girl in question, the one burning, doesn't notice, second, the steady supply of emails slowly flooding her main email account, among them, notably, quite a few curious principals of multi-billion F1 teams, their words whispering of a dream, one that could soon be hers, if she plays her cards right.


	4. In Days Before The Burn

The next time I see Daniel, it's at an airport in San Paulo over three weeks later. When he sees me, his whole face crumples into a huge smile that I can't help but return. I let out a surprised squeal when I reach him and he straights with me in his arms, my feet briefly leaving the ground. My top rides up and I blush as he finally puts me back on the ground before him, keeping his hands on my now exposed midriff.   
"Hello to you too," I tell him quietly on a laugh, aware of the ever-present eyes. I'm used to being shown off by guys I'm with, used to the eyes that follow pretty people. But with Daniel being well, a god, well it doesn't really help the situation, not to mention I'm not exactly camera-ready straight off a 16-hour flight.  
"I'm glad your here," he tells me on an excited exhale, the smile on his face not faltering for a second. This man is a golden retriever.   
I give him a huff. It's not fair that he looks so good right now. Big smile and fluffy curls. Even in my jet-lagged state im keenly aware that no one should be smiling that big this early in the morning. I give him a tired smile of my own.   
Then, "Okay pretty boy, let's get out of here," I tell him, eager to get away from prying eyes. I pull out of his embrace, reaching for my suitcase so we can leave, hopefully to somewhere with far fewer eyes and discreet cameras. In America, F1 drivers are relatively inconspicuous in most places, in Brazil it's a different story.   
He lets me go easily enough but reflexively takes my hand in his own, only briefly losing contact. At the same time, he intercepts me, taking the handle of my suitcase from me so all I'm holding is his hand.   
We make our way like that, fingers shamelessly interlocked between us, towards the 'pick up' parking garage.  
"I like you like this," he says, humor in his voice. "All short and shit." He looks meaningfully at my sneaker-clad feet, a contrast from my normal 5" or 6" heeled boots.  
I lightly whack his arm with my free hand, he's helpless to retaliate with both hands occupied. He only laughs.  
"Don't be rude." I scold. "I could be in 5-inch heels and still lap your ass," I add just for good measure.  
"Mhmm" he hums back, noncommittal. Admittedly we have yet to put that particular line of discussion to the test but even if we still haven't gone head to head, the fact that he doesn't outright deny it tells me enough.  
I'd seen the way even he tensed when I pushed the limits on Silvio at times. I was fearless behind the wheel, we both knew it, and that made me fast, undeniably so. I wondered if Daniel would race me, given the chance.  
Boys and their egos, such fragile things.  
When we reach the car I slide soundlessly into the passenger seat, for once not putting up a fight to drive his baby.  
When he slips into the car he leans in close and we take a long moment to get out on the road, distracted first by his lips, then his hands. By the time we pull out into the early morning sunlight, I'm wide awake, thrumming where he's touched me. Burning until we have reached his penthouse suite and he can finally, in privacy, give me his full attention.  
***  
When I wake golden hour has just descended upon the city, casting the empty bedroom alight in a warm glow. I'm still naked from the days earlier activities and have to slip on my clothes from this morning before venturing out of the bedroom in search of Daniel. My search comes up fruitless though and I'm left pouting alone in the main room of the apartment-sized suite.  
***  
In his absence I resign to working on a paper I have due, feebly attempting to conquer the mountain of work I've received as a result of missing two days of class. Its daunting work and I'm relieved nearly to the point of tears when he finds me there, kneeling in the main room surrounded in what is probably a good 20 different documents all relating somehow or another to the essay I have due in as many days. I look up at him from the floor, kneeling back on my haunches so I can wiggle my eyebrows at him.   
"Whatcha up to?" He asks, if not a little apprehensively, surveying the scene before him. I smile.   
"I could ask you the same thing, where you been at, pretty boy?" He's grinning back at me now, even if the floor of the main room is still occupied by a small paper maze.   
"Come," he says, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. He waits for a second so to see if I'll follow then when satisfied that I will, turns and leads us into the adjacent room.   
I've been sitting amongst the papers for so long that when I stand up my bones crack and I stumble. Daniel doesn't turn but I can still hear the quiet huff of amusement he let's out when I sway dangerously.  
***  
The kitchen counters are covered in taking out bags.  
"Wow" is all I can say, pausing in the doorway.   
"This is what I was doing, well I had a meeting first, that's why I didn't wake you. When it was over I went and got food." He rummage's around in one of the bags for a moment as he speaks, trailing off then emerging with a carton in hand. He pulls a doughy, dumpling looking thing from the container and offers it to me. "Here try this." I'm not usually a very adventurous eater but the way he's grinning at me, im helpless to deny him.  
The food is warm and savory in my mouth, tasting of the earth, seasoned with flavors underutilized in the states. I let out a sound to signal my satisfaction, his grin gets impossibly bigger.  
"I know. Sometimes I dream about this food. I make sure to get from this place at least once every year when im here for the race." I laugh.  
"Your trainer lets you eat this stuff during race weekends?"  
"I won't tell if you won't"  
"Deal"  
***  
In tandem the two lovers work beside each other in the little space between the counters, pulling out cartons, checking the contents, and labeling appropriately. In between the spectacle they share little, absent touches, a brush of fingers against exposed hip here, a gentle press of lips there.   
In a room off to the side, a table stretches out adjacent to floor-length mirrors. They never make it that far though, instead they opt to sit on the counter, just a god and a girl perching on opposing sides of the small room. Like the food, which they pass easily between them, they converse about everything and anything, the conversation never faltering between them.  
And finally, when they have both eaten their fill, the man closes the distance between them and tastes the food he's been eating all night in her mouth.   
It is not long before she has him on his knees before her.  
***  
The next morning I sit high in the paddock, nursing a scotch in one hand my phone in the other, paying neither of them mind, all attention on the twenty cars periodically zipping along the track, performing any last day check-ups if not just showing off.  
With a good night's rest between me and the long flight here I'm back to my old ways, 6" combat boots and all. They're covered in tiny white and black checkered flags and have 2 red racing strips running vertically down the back from ankle to heel, keeping in theme.  
Besides for my shoes though, I'm dressed to fit in. Without the company of Daniel or my sisters im content to fade into the back round, little desire to be noticed or mingle with the other driver's guests.   
I'm content where I am, watching the cars so close up, feeling their power through my hands and feet, electric where the vibrations of the supercars reach me. It's been a long time since I was this close to an official track, I try not to think about how hard it will be when this game is over and I am once again just a spectator from afar.  
***  
On Saturday Daniel scores p2 in qualifying, his best all year. When he returns to me, he's alive with it, even more, fidgety than usual. We barely make it to his little changing room before my clothes are off and I'm moaning his name. He fucks me, every bit the God, already victorious.  
***  
On Sunday the stands shake and thunder and I come alive. Lost in the energy I scream triumphantly into the excitement. How I have missed race weekends.  
By the time the race ends I'm back in the lounge high in the paddock but I leave when the results come in.  
Daniel scores p4 and I wander through the paddock in nervous anticipation. P4 is good, really good. Good enough to mean I have at least an hour of him doing press before he comes to find me. But after scoring so high in qualifying it's still a way to fall and I worry our little trip my not end on a high note.  
In my worry I wander aimlessly. The paddock is nearly empty now, most personal gone now that the race is over or down in the garages beginning pack-up. It's peaceful like no other here and I only stop once met with a rail, separating me from another far drop to the track below.   
I lean against it, revealing in where I am, in the wind through my hair and the smell of burnt rubber still drifting in the air.  
I'm so caught up in the scene before me that I only realize im not alone when the man is already leaning up against the rail a few feet to my left, taking on my stance as he too looks out across the track.   
For a moment I'm struck with a sense of deja vu, another day when another man found me alone in the paddock.  
Unlike that day though, I have no idea what this man wants.  
Christen Horner doesn't say anything for a long moment, the picture of calm as he leans against the rail.  
He must feel my wide eyes on him but he keeps his eyes on the track when he speaks. "I've always been especially in love with this track if im being honest. Admittedly that might just be because it's the first one I ever raced on but we are after all sentimental creatures."  
For a long moment, there is silence.  
The wind blows through the paddock, my red hair live fire in the breeze, he meets my eyes this time when he says, "Do you remember the first time you were on a track?" There's an intensity in the question that I don't understand. I straighten up, he doesn't, still the picture of leisure across the rail.   
"Yes of course" I say letting out a chuckle. "You were there if I recall correctly." Even if he hadn't seen me that day as I set a new record, surely he had seen the video later. If it was enough to cause lower division teams to reach out to me, it was enough to at least get around the f1 paddock.  
He chuckles, finally straightening up to look me in the eyes. I'm thankful as ever for the height my heels provide me, silently reveling when he has to tilt his head up slightly to look at me.  
"Yes, that little show was impressive. Quite a way to make your presence known. But no actually im not talking about Italy. I'm talking about Antioch California. I would think you'd remember your first race, especially one where you took home first place. But then again you were so very young then." I stare at him in mute horror. In the back of my mind memories dance. The sounds of joyous screaming and laughter. The exhilaration of my first race. The triumph of my beginner win. Even back then people had told me it was a fluke, winners luck. I'd proved them wrong soon enough.  
But id stopped thinking about the karts of my childhood a long time ago. Come to terms with the fact that in this life, just because you love something, doesn't mean it won't kill you. For the person I loved most in this world, I gave up the thing I loved the most. It almost killed me, I won't survive it a second time.  
"Of course I remember it, I remember it all." Even in my own ear, my voice sounds far away, wistful sorrowful.  
"I have to go" I turn from him, knowing that if I don't now, I never will.  
"Wait." he commands, grabbing my arm. I yank free of him and he lets me go, but not before slipping a card into my hand. "Call me." He shouts into the wind even as I walk away. "Call me when you're ready to start living again."  
I tell my self I won't call him.   
***  
They both know she will.  
***  
I'm relieved to find Daniel in his dressing room when I reach it, unsure of where else I would've searched for him. I watch him from the doorway for a long moment. His back is turned from me as he wrestles with his fireproofs, the muscles of his bareback tensing, and untensing under his skin. It's hot in an unconscious, unabashed sort of way. Still, I'm not disappointed when he turns to me, a smile breaking out on his face when he sees me.  
"Hey." He breathes. "I was wondering where you'd gone to."  
"Hi" I breathe back, coming up close, sliding my hands up his strong arms where they reach for me and coming to rest behind his neck. "I was just wondering around. You ready to go?" I still can't gauge how he's feeling after today's race, so far so good though.   
"Yeah, let's get out of here."  
***  
That night the two lovers leave the intimacy of the penthouse hand in hand. It is their last night in the city together, the girl's flight leaving early in the morning, they vow not to waste their remaining hours together. Under a sky full of stars they decent upon the city, a God and a girl on fire, they draw eyes, from men and women alike, in every club they grace, on every crowded street they wander, ignorant to it all, solely distracted by one another.  
In the morning, before the sun has risen, the girl is awake, packing the last evidence of her presence. She is careful as she does, not wanting to bother her lover, still sleeping after the events of the night prior. In sleep, he is calm, for once still, at peace as the city begins to wake below him.   
When the sun begins to rise in the city, so too does she. Before she leaves she slips into the bedroom, intending to get a last glimpse of her sleeping lover, a memory for the road. Instead, she finds him awake and slipping on his shoes.  
"Ready to go?" He asks her, looking up, keys in hand.  
"Oh, no, you don't have to take me"  
"I know, I want to"  
He lets her drive to the airport, only giving her thigh a light squeezes when she pushes the speed limit.   
When he leaves her at her gate, it is with a promise to see her soon. A promise he intends to keep.  
***  
A week later, unannounced to him, the girl boards another flight, this time bound for the UK. When she arrives at Red Bull Head Quarters, Christian is waiting for her. For the first time since Italy, and for the second time in her life, she is put behind the wheel of an f1 supercar and given free rein.   
For the first time since Italy, the girl is on fire, leaving the track scorched in her wake. A hundred eyes watch her as she leaves ashes behind her. No one is surprised when she emerges, triumphant, and is escorted by Christian, a hand on the small of her back, into the room where it happens, the doors shut firmly after her.  
***  
Only hours later, when she is back in California, a million miles away, does she dare to speak again, the blood still staining her teeth.


	5. Abu Dhabi 2023

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if updates are a little slower for a bit. I already have about 8 chapters of this fic written but with the cluster fuck that has been this week and the whole grid being jumbled, it's thrown a bit of a wrench in my plans.

Within a week of returning from Red Bull I find myself on yet another treacherously long flight, this time at Daniel's beck and call. It is the final race of the season, we both know im helpless to refuse.  
He greets me with the same excitement as the last time we acted out this scene. Nothing about this feels like acting though.  
Not when he smiles like that, when he looks at me like that, this feels like burning.  
***  
It's two am as we drive back into the city, his hand a constant on my thigh.  
"Im happy you're here." he tells me, a flash of teeth in the rear view mirror.  
"I am too" I tell him, surprised at how much I mean it when I say it. I've always been happy when in his presence, of course, but today I'd been just as excited at the prospect of seeing him again as I was at once again being in his world.  
At the next red light he leans over and presses a warm, if not scratchy, kiss to my lips. When he pulls away, his eyes once again on the road, I keep a hand tangled in the curls at his nape.  
I don't know how I'm ever going to let this boy go.  
***  
As stipulation for spending Friday on the plane, im unable to attend Saturday's festivities. Instead I spend the day locked up in the grand air bnb Daniel has rented, buried under an unconquerable amount of work. I don't notice the day slip by around me until Daniel is back, only then taking in the darkness beyond the windows.  
"How was it?" I ask, stuck with a sense of deja vu from my place kneeling on the floor waiting for his reply.  
He ignores my question, doesn't have to say it when he tells me, "I got P8"  
Im getting to my feet and coming to stand before him, taking his larger frame in my arms.  
I don't hug him, wanting to be able to see his face. Even still, I can feel him relax once I've got my arms around him.  
"I guess I need you to be at the track in order to be a good luck charm" he says, humor and a little sadness still in his voice.  
I huff, resting my head against his chest.  
"Trust me, I am the opposite of a good luck charm."  
He makes a sound of dismissals at that. I can feel it in his chest where I press my cheek flush.  
"At brazil, and before that in Italy, I had my best times all season. The common factor? You. Coincidence, I think not!"  
I can only laugh at him, turning away so he won't see the smile I can't keep off my lips, thrown by the sudden but undeniable satisfaction that comes with knowing he wants me by his side.  
"Whatever" I mutter.  
***  
On the last race of season Daniel scores p5.  
He's out of his car, then in my arms, his hemet still on as the stands shake with the booming crowd, anothers name on their lips. "You were amazing" I whisper into his neck. In the chaos around us, in the midst of triumph, only I am privy to a God breaking. Just for a moment, in a single second, a sob racks his body. I hold him close. The dark days loom on the horizon, but I angle my shoulders, and brace for the storm. He will not go cold alone.  
***  
That night there is a big party to close out the season. I do my best to discourage Daniel from attending, not in any hurry to be engulfed in the political side of f1 after an already tumultuous day but to no avail.  
I find myself in a huge banquet hall, all around me people adorned in designer brands and rocks worth more then my entire tuition. I cling to Daniel, content to be shown off as long as he doesn't leave my side, feeling vulnerable and far too exposed. I am an outsider here, most faces except for those of the f1 drivers and their principals, fading into anonymous.  
Yet as the night goes on more and more people approach the two of us, my name already in their mouth.  
"It's not just me." I plea to him in a still moment, a rarity tonight. "Tell me it's not just me."  
"No you're right" he says, not looking down at me but smiling to himself. "There's definitely something weird happening. You didn't send any of these poor men you're nudes or something did you?"  
I snort.  
"If that was the case I think one of them would've asked for an autograph by now"  
He laughs. The people closest to us send us curious glances. If he notices, he makes no sign of it.  
We're finally met with a lull in the many people wanting to get a word from the one and only Danny Ric at the end of the season and we revel in it, grateful for the time to give each other our full attention.  
That is until the tall figure approaches.  
All 6 feet and 4 inches of Guenther Steiner oozes under dog determination as he plants himself in front of us, demanding our attention. We both look up, curiosity evident in our confused and awaiting look. "Avalon Mimic" he says, yet another stranger with my name on their lips. "Im the team principal for the formula 1 Haas racing team-"  
"I know who you are" I say, uneasy. "What do you want?" Daniel must be able to sense my discomfort as his arms, wrapped around me from behind, tightening reassuringly.  
If Gunter notices he doesn't say anything about it.  
"I hear you've been to Red Bull to discuss a seat in formula 1."  
Fuck is all I can think, Daniel suddenly rigid behind me. I can tell they're both waiting for me to speak, to confirm it for them. Instead I stare him down. He falters, clearly not the reaction he was expecting.  
"Right, well, Haas would also like extend the same invitation, to talk, as well." He gives me an encouraging smile. I stare back. Even the smile falters now.  
"Right well here's my card, we'll be in touch." He leaves quickly after that, as though only now getting that he's not welcome. Then it's just me and Daniel in the corner again, this time the silence between us tense instead of content.  
"You talked to Red Bull, huh?" He's still holding me close, body flush against my back, arms wrapped around my waist, lips to my ear. It makes me shiver, his stuble lightly grazing my neck and jaw. I can't tell if he's mad without seeing his face, his voice undiscernible.  
I try to turn in his grip, not only to see his face but to get away from the gaze of the people all around us, curious eyes sticking like flies to paper. With firm hands on my hips he keeps me in place though, pulling me closer so he can more easily talk into my ear. "Who else have you used me to talk to, baby." He asks, sickly sweet, emphasizing the last word, a cruel joke of affection im sure he doesn't feel right now. I internally groan. The politics of f1 have never been an aspect of the sport that I appreciated.  
Pulling out of his arms, he let's me go. All around people watch the God and his young date, eagerly waiting for the next headline.  
I turn and am reminded of the track in Italy, the way Daniel had looked at me as I sat atop his car, the anger and fear that had burned in his eyes. Before I had been able to simmer that heat with my body, offered up on a platter, today I suspect will not be that easy.  
"It's not what you think, it's not like that."  
He opens his mouth but I cut in. "No, im not arguing with you, not here. Im going to the bathroom, when I get back I expect you to of calmed down." I hesitate, a vocal response is evidently too much to ask for but I take the lack of fight in his stance as a good sign. I push the limits slightly when I lean in, pressing an unreciprocated kiss to his lips. He doesn't kiss back, but he doesn't push me away either. "Trust me." I whisper, searching his eyes in the closeness. "Ill explain it all later."  
He grabs my wrist when I turn away.  
"Tonight"  
"Okay"  
***  
I take a deep breath when the bathroom door shuts behind me. My exhale comes out shaky, on a half swallowed sob. Suddenly im overwhelmed by it all, by the rush of the race and how easily this whole facade crumbles. This is not my world, I am merely a guest and soon enough, I will be a no longer wanted one.  
"Don't cry" I look up suddenly, frantically wiping away the tears more out of instinct then in response to command. Claire Williams stands at the sinks before the mirror, applying what looks to be mascara, never turning to look at me even as I stare, open mouthed at her.  
When I was young and this sport was still just my aunts love and not yet my own, we had bonded over the late nights watching f1 races. She had come of age with Williams, watched as the underdogs become the champions and then gods. By the time I had been born the heroes of old had already been on their way out. Still, thanks to my aunt, Williams would always be the team I screamed for the loudest.  
Abruptly, I am aware of how young I look, how uncomfortable I feel in clothes meant to make me blend in. Now I just feel silly, like a child playing dress up, not a women who has the likes of Red Bull and Haas asking after her as a driver.  
I straighten up, quickly wiping away the last of wet beneath my eyes just as Clare finishes up with her business in the mirror and turns to me, giving me an indifferent once-over. "Good" she says, looking me pointedly in my eyes. "If you're going to be the first female driver in f1 in 30 years, you cannot show weakness. You cannot cry."  
I take a deep breath, calmed by the authority in her voice.  
"Okay."  
She brushes past me on her way out, looking every bit the Formula One boss. When I leave the bathroom, it's with yet another contact card burning a hole in my pocket and the sure words: "we'll be in touch."  
***  
Up until almost midnight that night, I can let myself believe that Daniel has forgotten about the events of the day earlier. After the banquet he had insisted that It was too early to go back to the hotel room, instead dragging us out to a club with a couple of mechanics he's close with on the team. The three men are nice enough but untrained in keeping their eyes to themselves and I question whether it would've been time better spent in the hotel room, even if it would've meant less delay of the hopefully non-inevitable.  
I'm thoroughly enjoying myself by the time we leave. I've had a couple of drinks and lost my jacket along the way but im happy under the thudding music and blinding lights. In my state, one that I so rarely get to indulge with my studies, im unbothered by my life or my regrets. I'm just a drunk college girl in a foreign city, dancing for her lover as he watches on from the bar.  
I'm enjoying myself when we finally step out into the brisk night air, but it only gets better from there.  
***  
It's only after he's been inside of me and I've come, twice in my intoxicated state, that he brings up the days earlier events.  
Im just beginning to sober up and I go tense under his fingers where they brush over my naked skin, the rest of his sweaty body curved behind my own.  
"So." He begins. "You've been to talk to Christen."  
I only hum in confirmation. His fingers briefly stutter over my hip, the only sign of his barley checked emotions. With previous lovers I may of rose from the bed now, uncomfortable with my prone position in the face of a rising temper. I trust this man behind me though, hope for the same thing in turn. So I stay in the bed, turning in his arms so I can see his face if we're going to talk about this. All to quickly, I've sobered up.  
"What do you want to know?" I'm not yet sure how much I'll give to him, all to aware of how fine the line I walk is. How close I am to fucking this all up.  
Suddenly, Daniel does not hold my only invitation into this world. Still, to my surprise, I find that doesn't change matters much. I still desperately want this man in my life.  
He searches my eyes in the little space between our naked bodies. I resist the urge to look away, his stare intense, his eyebrows knitted.  
"Who else, who else has reached out?" I try to ignore the flash of pride his words bring forth. Ignore the way it makes me feel to know this man has no doubt that I could be the talk of multiple teams, that Red Bull would be after me for more then just revenge against Daniel as I had initially expected from them.  
"Hass, Racing Point, and as of today, Williams."  
He let's out a small huff, for once Daniel seems lost for words. Finally,  
"Was this your plan all along? To use me to get close to get a seat."  
I open my mouth to protest but he cuts me off.  
"Don't lie to me. I've seen you behind the wheel on a track. You're a racer, no doubt about it." I take I deep breath, alarmed by his unexpected incite and quickly trying go decide how much of myself I willing to give up to this man. He's right of course. No person could just get behind an f1 car and drive like I did without some kind of prior experience. That had been a mistake, showing off the way I did. But admittedly, with the taste of that speed still haunting me, I can't bring myself to regret it.  
"You're right. I raced in karting competitions for a large part of my childhood. Racing has always been a love of mine. That day, on the track, it was a dream come true. But im telling the truth when I say I've only ever been here for you. I didn't plan this. Hell baby, I don't think I could've if I tried." I laugh at that. He doesn't.  
In all honesty, I understand his situation more then id like to admit. As a child born with a platinum spoon in my mouth, I know all to well how people can use you. How much it can feel like love when it isn't.  
Finally, "You're telling the truth? Those principals approached you first?" I quickly nod, then vocally confirm it for him.  
There a long moment and I think that might be the end of it. Daniels pulling away from me, rummaging around on the floor for his boxers then jeans and t-shirt. I panic for a second when he throws me my dress, thinking that he's kicking me out but he must see the worry in my eyes and is quick to flash me one if his signature smiles.  
"Get dressed, we're going to the track." With that he leaves the room, phone already to his ear giving me no time to ask any further questions. All I can do is hastily pull on my dress and heels and hurry after him.  
***  
When we get to the track it's just past one-thirty in the morning and I think I must be seeing things at first as we approach Daniels garage from the race that day, finding four people hard at work while the rest of the track lays dormant. He greets them all easily and by name.  
"Daniel, what's going on?" I haven't asked him until now, content not to push him but now my curiosity bubbles over.  
He finally stops, coming back over to me where I still stand at the edge of where the light from the garage spills into the night.  
"You want to be a Formula One driver? You think you've got what it takes?" He's smiling now. His voice both a promise and a challenge of impending speed.  
"Yes." And when I say it, for the first time, I know it is the truth.  
"Good" he's smirking now. "Confidence is needed in this sport. Now we'll see if you have the skill to back it up." Im sure that the smile I give him in response rivals his own.  
***  
That night, while the race concluded hours earlier, residents of the famous city swear that they can still here the loud cry of two drivers racing eachother along the famed track. Even years later, a young girl will still claim she could hear giggles coming from the track that night, high on the warm nights wind.  
***  
Under the cover of darkness, me and Daniel race beside each other in matching team cars. They are an equalizer between us, not just because they belong to Daniels team and will therefore cause the least fallout if we crash, but also to make it that much more condemning when Daniel beats me to the finish line.  
I expect him to pull into the pitlanes but instead he leads the two of us past them, only stopping when we are once again on the far side of the track, far from the peering eyes still manning the garage.  
When I reach him he has already jumped from his car and now sits against the edge of it, his helmet cradled under one arm. I pull the second car up beside him and jump out, mirroring his stance. In the long silence I resist the urge to lighten the mood with a joke, something about mabey if I'd just kept my heels on instead of opting to wear boots definitely two sizes too big for me.  
In the moon light Daniel looks how I must of looked as he closed in on me on the track in Italy. From the outside he looks like the picture of calm, of resolve. I imagine there is likely turmoil bubbling just beneath his skin.  
He finally moves, opens his mouth to speak. I brace myself for the denial I know is coming. This had been my chance to prove to Daniel that I was good enough to play with the big boys. This had been my chance, and id blown it.  
Therefore, im puzzled by what he says next, none of the animosity id expected present in his voice.  
"It's not all fun and games." He voice serious, all humor gone as he stares me down. I refuse to look away. "If you drive for an F1 team, you can't be messy. You can't make mistakes. If you do you'll be out on your ass so fast you won't know what happened, especially if you're a woman. People aren't going to respect you. You're going to have to fight for it. And there are strings in this game. Unseen puppet masters with far too much money and time to waste."  
"Why are you telling me this?" I cut in, suddenly angry. As if I do not already know this. As if I haven't already spent countless nights trying to convince myself that the bad out weighs the good, a task that feels like its only gotten harder in recent months.  
He takes a deep breath. "I need to know that your okay with this. I- I need to know that you know what youre getting into if-" he pauses. Takes a long breath. "If im going to help you you need to know, and be okay, with the knowledge that in this sport, at the speeds we go at, you have a very real chance of ending up dead in the wall." Oh.  
He doesn't stop me when I step into his personal space, doesn't even react when I press close and wrap my arms around his neck.  
When I look into his eyes, he stares back, unflinching.  
"I understand."  
I kiss him and he kisses me back reveling in the strength when he flips us so he can hold me against his car, the metal still warm against my legs, heat pressing in on both sides.  
When he pulls away he's smiling, there's a fire in his eyes.  
"I understand the risks, " I start cautiously when it's clear his good mood is here to stay, still confused by it seeing as how I just lost to him. "Why help me though? I just lost. You beat me even."  
He laughs. "Yes" he agrees, "you did just loose quite spectacularly. But I also set the bar pretty high baby. I am pretty amazing after all." He mimics someone flipping their hair back with attitude. I laugh. He laughs too, staring down at me, those brown eyes crinkling at the edges.  
This time when he speaks his voice is lower, more serious again when he says, "So, my little looser, who's call will you be returning?" I swell at the implications of his words. That even after beating me, he thinks I have what it takes to race against him professionally, to play with the big boys.  
There is no doubt in my voice as I return his smile.  
"Williams."  
He bursts out laughing.  
"Stop" I whine, slapping his chest lightly.  
"No seriously" he says, the laughter dying down. "The obvious choice is Red Bull-"  
I cut him off with a scoff, pulling out of his arms. Memories of a cold, long table and a cool English accent bubble to the surface, bringing with them unresolved anger.  
"Im am being serious." I tell him.  
"Im going to Williams. If you think im the type of person to lay down and be one of Christen Horner's lap dogs, your wrong. You out of everyone should understand that." They're sharp words, meant to cut, I can see they do as he deflates against the car. I regret them immediately.  
"Daniel im sorry. I didn't mean it"  
Im back in front of him now, reaching out tentatively. He sighs and looks up meeting my eyes.  
"No, you're right, im sorry I understand. Williams it is."  
He pulls me close and I rest my head against his chest. His chin is a firm weight on my head.  
"Really?" I ask. My voice sounds tired, finally reflecting the late hour. He holds me a little closer.  
"Yeah" he says, sounding just as tired. "I like it actually. The underdog signs with the underdog team. There's no where to go but up. And who knows, maybe you'll even bring them a little glory."  
***  
We leave the track, hotel then airport bound, just as the sun begins to paint the sky in the far distance. In a year from now, when we find ourselves once again at this track, so much will be different.  
For now we smile at eachother, both cautiously excited to see what the future has to offer. We had no idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cry about this week with me in the comments !


	6. Deals With The Devil

For the forth time in as many weeks, I find myself in a first class plane seat, running at this sport's beck and call. This time however, I have Daniel by my side. He'd come back to California at roughly the same time I did but only drove up to Santa Cruz a couple days ago, when I told him i'd be flying to Williams this weekend. He's been with me the last couple of days and now his hand is a comforting presence on my thigh as we fly towards Williams head quarters. After what happened at Red Bull im silently thanking the gods that he insisted on coming with, even if it makes me endlessly more self conscious.  
Im infinitely grateful for his presence but it sends a clear message. One of high expectations and a lot to lose if I can't pull through. It's nauseating and exhilarating all at once.  
***  
When we get to Williams it's is a rainy morning and if not for Daniel reliably holding my hand I probably would've slipped by now in the heels im wearing. It's worth it though, in addition to being almost as tall as him now, the shoes im in have flames on them and make me feel like a badass. Like someone ready to shatter a certain glass ceiling.  
We're also accompanied by Daniels agent, per his suggestion seeing as I don't have my own. Claire greets the three of us in the main lobby of the expansive Williams headquarters, the building an ever-present reminder of the success this team had seen and subsequently lost in the past years.  
Hasty introductions are made between the four of us, as well as her own small entourage, consisting of her chief mechanic and to my surprise both current Williams drivers. It's awkward to say the least. Still, I can't help but admire the move as she spear heads our little group towards the track on the far side of the campus and makes clear her desires. Before any negotiations are to take place, im to race both drivers.  
In contrast, when I had gone to RedBull i'd only raced their test driver, seeing as how Maxs seat at Red Bull went notoriously uncontested. Now though, this is a test not only for me, but for the two current drivers. The implications are clear, not only is this a test to see if my speed holds true when not alone on the track, but also that only the two fastest drivers today will walk away with a seat. For the two other drivers, seeing as how they are already on the last ranked team in f1, there is no where to go from here but down.  
It shows in the way they race. All teeth against bone and pedal to metal.  
The boys race each other first, fast flashes on the wet pavement as they fight to stay on the rain slicked ground beneath them just as hard as they fight to stay ahead of the other. Claire watches beside me, ruthless in her silence.  
When the two boys are done duking it out with each other, I race them each, one by one. It's my fourth time in an f1 car, the 3rd model I've been in, and yet it is still immediately apparent that of the three, this is the slowest. Still, the rain stops any of us from pushing the speed limits far, acting as an equalizer as I race the two of them.  
I win both races. One more easily then the other. When I emerge from my car it is with a smile the second time.  
I reach to shake my opponents hand. George meets me half way, returning my smile as we shake hands, the other driver, the one who'd been beaten by both of us, is no where to be seen.  
"That was fun" I tell George, a conspiratorial edge to my voice.  
He laughs. "Very, I look forward to doing it again... and beating you"  
"Well of course."  
***  
I don't see George again that day, Claire quick to usher me, Daniel, and his agent into an official looking room over looking the track. In the center, a large table dominates the room and we all settle around it, sides drawn clear down the middle of the table, me and the two men I've brought with me sitting opposite Claire and her own people.  
"Explain to me why he has to be here again." Claire starts once we've all settled in, giving Daniel a reproachful look.  
I open my mouth to reply but Daniel gets to it first, "I am here to make sure that my friend here gets a contract that reflects her worth." Hes smiling, sociable as always, but theres an edge to his voice. One that makes it clear that he doesn't like the woman before us, or at least doesn't trust her. "Do you have an issue with that?"  
The two stare eachother down from opposing sides of the table for a long moment, Claire has her hands steepled before her in a stance that screams 'I can wait you out all day'. Daniel merely takes my hand into his and smirks at her.  
It's childish. Still, I let him. This show of power, the politics involved in this sport at this level, I don't understand them like these two and for now im content to let Daniel fight it out on my behalf.  
"Fine." She says after a long moment of staring at our hands, not sounding very fine with it at all. When she speaks, it is pointedly towards me and no one else. "As of right now, we are offering you a one year contract for a seat in this upcoming f1 season. This contract is contingent on your moving from the states to here in the UK as to give us ample time to make up for your lack of experience." She pushes a folder across the table to me. "Here is our offer."  
I make sure to hold her eye contact for a moment more before letting my eyes drop to the folder that now lies before me. I open it slowly as Daniel leans in to get a look too. I check my irritation at the movement, knowing he's just trying to help. The figure highlighted in red on the third page marked under 'base salary' is more then I've ever made.  
"No." Daniels says, closing the folder in my face and pushing it back across the table towards a now glowering Claire. "Nope, nope nope" Daniel continues obnoxiously, leaning back in his chair as though he too has all the time and money in the world to negotiate. "She may be a rookie but we both know she is worth more. She just showed you as much on the track. She's main driver material, mabey even champion material, the point is, if you won't pay her what she's worth someone will. Try again."  
If looks could kill, Daniel would be dead in his seat right now. As it is, I don't protest, curious for now to see how his arrogance will play out. Claire jaw tenses in the silence.  
"This is not Red Bull Or Ferrari Mr. Riccardo. We do not have the kind of resources, or frankly, the kind of money, as some of the bigger teams do. Would you rather we put the quality of our cars on the line in order to line our drivers pockets. Tell me? How did that work out for you at Renault?" Daniel goes tense under my touch.  
"At least I didn't finish last on the grid."  
"Okay stop" I say. Cutting them both off before they can get a word it. They're both just being chiLdish now and it's something I just can't afford. I have to play my cards so perfectly today, have to spin the story just right. I know Daniel is just trying to help, I'll be the first to admit im quite a bit over my head, but as he talks I can begin to see my future slipping away. I won't risk it.  
"Claire, is there somewhere we can talk in private."  
Daniel immediately starts to protest but im not having any of it. "Stop. Show me you trust me. Im not a child and I won't sign anything without discussing it first." We share a long look but then he's sighing and giving me a slight nod. I turn to Claire and she gets to her feet. "We can talk in my office."  
Immediately the man to the left of her begins to protest, saying something about policy and legality. She shushes him, coming around the table she makes a beckoning gesture towards me before moving to exit the room. I squeeze Daniels hand a last time before standing up, him reflexively steadying me on my heels, and quickly following after her.  
Both our shoes click on the sleek linoleum as we make our way to her office, closed doors to our left, floor length windows and the track beyond to our right.  
Her office is about the same size as my apartment back in Santa Cruz which is to say that even on the worst f1 team, the woman must be doing pretty well for herself.  
Only once she's settled in behind her desk does she address me, "So, now that you've lost the guard dog are we going to have a real conversation?"  
I don't answer her immediately. Taking my time I cross to the other side of the room, staring out the windows so she can only see my side profile at most. I take a deep breath. I need this to work. I need this to go right.  
"When I was little I used to watch F1 with my aunt. It was her love first. She grew up along side your father, she was Williams greatest fan. She was the one that got me into racing." I come to sit across from her now. In her face, I can see she thinks she's won. That's good.  
"Daniels only wants the best for me. Hes been fucked over by this sport far too many times to be trusting. But honestly? I could care less about the salary. Im young, this is only my rookie year, frankly, you can have it all if it means more speed. If the articles are to be believed, there will be more then enough time in the future for accumulating a fortune. For now, all I want is a fast car. If you can promise me that, well ill sign as soon as you can."  
She gives me a long look when I finish speaking. For a moment we sit in silence, finally she leans back in her seat.  
"Why?"  
"Excuse me?"  
"Why Williams. I know you've talked to teams who could give you both. So why us?"  
"I just told you-"  
"Yes, you said, childhood nostalgia. I don't buy it. You're young, ambitious, clearly not lacking confidence. Why choose to start from the bottom. From my side of the table you're sounding pretty self sabotaging right about now."  
It's my turn to let the silence stretch on. In that moment I know what I have to say. What she needs to trust me. I can only hope this decision will be worth it.  
I let out a long exhale.  
"Fine. You want to know the truth? Here it is." I lean back in my chair, reveling in every inch I can get away from her, slumping like it's casual. Like im not about to tell her more of the truth then I anticipated giving up. Each day I surprise myself with how far I'll push, to what end im not even sure of yet.  
"I wasn't lying when I said that stuff about this team. But you're right, I went to Red Bull first. Christian offered me everything I wanted.... And more. " I stop then. Not just till I see understanding in her eyes, but also to breath. I keep having to remind myself. "Im not stupid. I know I wouldn't be here if most of the men in here didn't want me. " I let out a bitter laugh. "Im everything they want to be with but with boobs, raw talent, and better luck."  
I have to take a deep breath, force a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "I don't want what Horner is offering. Or what any of those men are offering for a matter of fact." The smile drops, I let out an exhale I didn't know I was holding. "I don't care about the money. I just want to race. I wanna feel that speed and the burn of the fight. I just want a fast car and to bring home a trophy to this place once again." That's it. I have nothing else to say. I've bared my truth to this woman who all to quickly holds my future In her hand. Im on a plank on a ship, far out at sea. Is this how it ends?  
"We all want things."  
I give her the first real, if not a little tired, smile since coming into her office, "Im willing to fight for this. Are you?"  
When she smiles, I know I've won.  
***  
Im falling, unsure of whether the deck or the depths await me below.  
***  
As we make our way back to the board room a thought occurs to me.  
"Oh and Claire." I tell her right before we push back into the room. "There's no way im leaving California. Not even for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a final paper for school that I really should be working on but now it's midnight and you all are welcome.


	7. Interlude

From what I can remember of that period I lived in limbo, after contracts marking the start of my new life had been signed but before the world knew my name, three people stand out.  
First, with a sense of humor that can only be attained after long year's of friendship in hindsight, I remember Claire. In those days, even when Williams was at the bottom of the grid, she was always the one to shoulder our anxieties. Never once did she let us see her scared. She was, of course. Any one would be when put in charge of, for all intensive purposes, a sinking ship. But still, she came to work everyday and tried her best. All she asked of any of us was to do the same. I couldn't have asked for a better leader.  
Next, there was George. Back then, with my academic obligations keeping me in California for most of the off season, the two of us didn't spend nearly as much time together as we would in later years. Rarely did our schedules allow for leisure's such as sociability. Still, I do remember the long hours we spent racing each other. Our shared excitement on the first days we could feel the increase of power underneath us. Money may not buy happiness, but it can certainly buy speed and with the new seasons cost caps closing the distance in ranks everyday, in addition to not being weighed down by the cost of a second driver, William's former Glory Days seemed closer than ever.  
In those too-short days on the race track, on weekends I flew out to Williams headquarters between school, we grew into a comfortable sort of camaraderie, nothing like what we would have in just a year's time, but I would always remember George as the first driver, besides for Daniel, to show me kindness. Of all of the drivers I've befriended over the years, I consider George the first.  
Finally, with the stark clarity of young love, I remember Daniel. Of course I didn't know I loved him at the time, not at first at least. I had never expected to be in his life this long, let alone love him. At the time we both were seeing other people anyway, any semblance of a monogamous relationship made impossible by the constant distance between us. But in those long months regaining the reflexive muscles id lost year's ago, Daniel was just as much of a constant as the increasing speed of cars or the monthly flights to Williams. He was always texting me or calling me or just sending stupid memes. On rare weekends when we both were in California, he'd drive up to Santa Cruz and pick me up. For hours we'd drive, sometimes talking, often ranting about our respective teams troubles, sometimes though we'd also sit in silence, both of us content in each others calming presence, lost in the speed beneath us.  
Of all the time we spent together that year, I still remember spring break like it was yesterday. My birthday fell on the first of April and while I always celebrated it with the women I called family, this year being no different, Daniel had insisted on going away together in celebration during the week I got off of school for spring break. He promised to have me back in time to be with the women I loved so and after a little encouragement (and some negotiating with Claire) I agreed to go.  
In that week we spent in isolation together, in a high villa over looking golden mountains stretching into the distance, we marked time in each other. In the darkening of Daniels skin, with each day spent in the sun he returned to me a richer tone. Where freckles sprouted and turned my body into a map of milky skin and pale stars, he turned to amber, sun warmed under where my fingers roamed.  
Long hours were lost to each others bodies, to hot touches and lazy kisses. We partook in our each other just as much as the lavish food or wine. In those days, my body was an ever changing landscape. Each time I undressed I seemed to find a new, defined part of me that hadn't been there before. That I did not recognize. But Daniel was always there, whispering praise, pressing loving kisses. In my still-admittedly insecure youth, he never failed to remind me of my power.  
Not when he would smirk at me, through the mirror where I poked and prodded, before getting down onto his knees, my fingers in his sun-warmed curls.  
In the mirror, we looked like gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This is a pretty short chapter but idk, I still love the idea of this fic, even with the chaos that is this sport.
> 
> I guess lemme know if yall still wanna read this and if so ill keep posting, even if this is now a Williams-ain't-dead-AU.
> 
> Or just say hi in the comments. I think we could all use someone to talk to right now, especially about this sport!


	8. Photos and Fears

I remember the first day I tried on my Williams gear, first the tightly fitted fireproofs, then the equally form fitting overalls. I'd stared at myself for long moments, wondering about the past and the future. Wondering if this were my first set, were they also to be my last?  
It was all forgotten though, easily, when Daniel burst in and giggled. Actually giggled and almost immediately had his hands on me. Not necessarily in a sexual manner, but more on a simple physical level. That's how Daniel was when he was happy. He wanted to feel, to touch, to spread the joy to others. He was a golden retriever reveling in the Sun. He pulled me close. Soon enough, I was out of the overalls once more.  
***  
The next time I put them on, there is no hesitation. I'm just zipping them up when a soft knock sounds on the door they'd designated as my dressing room.   
"Come in" I call, already knowing who it is. Knowing that only one of the two men I care for here would bother to knock before barging in. I watch George through the mirror as he comes in and makes himself comfortable on the of the single chair in the corner, folding his long legs so his six feet of height take up less space in the small room.   
"What's up?" I ask, careful to avoid his eyes in the mirror. I don't miss the incredulous look he gives me.  
"Nothing much", then, in a softer tone, "you nervous?"  
"Nope." I answer a little too quickly through.   
He laughs.   
"Good answer."  
***  
We leave the dressing room together. He doesn't say anything when I'm slow to leave. Just gives me a reassuring smile. I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter if I feel like I can't breathe right now. I've gotten this far, no turning back now. Still, when the two of us emerge onto the track together it takes all my courage not to immediately turn back. When I stop, so does Gorge beside me, none of the other people on the track, drivers and press alike, have noticed us yet and we stand there, his presence silent encouragement next to me.  
"I don't know why we even have to do this." I know I sound like a child when I say it but at at the moment I can't really bring myself to care. "I mean, there's so reason for why they couldn't just photoshop us all together."  
George only rolls his eyes. "You know, some people would give up body parts to to meet an entire f1 grid in person. I'm honestly kind of surprised you're not jumping up and down right now. I mean, you may be the biggest fan here."   
"I'm not meeting them, I'm posing with them. Besides, I'm pretty sure they all hate me." He fixes me with another incredulous look.  
"Really?"  
"Hey, you did too!" I'm quick to remind him. That makes him pause for a moment, both of us remembering the night we got drunk and way too truthful with each other.   
"Yes okay" he finally say, letting out a long exhale. "They may infact hate you." I whack him in the arm.  
"Hey" he cries, exaggerated outrage clear in his voice. His high voice carries on the wind and eyes that hadn't yet noticed us now turn, called by the commotion. In the sudden attention, George pulls me to his side, talking to me in hushed tones as we make our way to an expectant looking Claire, waving us over now that we've made our presence known.  
"Relax" George tells me under his breath. I open my mouth to protest but he continues on before I can. "Your right, they might hate you a little bit right now. But they just don't know you yet. Besides once you're on the track with them, they'll see you belong here just as much as any of us. Once you're on the track with them, you'll gain their respect, just as you did with me."  
I take I deep breath as we close in on Claire and the other Williams personnel with her. "Okay"  
***   
When we reach Claire she's talking to her assistant and greets us distractedly. Someone hands us each our helmets. They're not the actual one's we use during racing or practice, instead prop ones, no scratches on them to be found. Clare turns and, as if only just then realizing were still there, she gives us an exasperated look. "Well" she says, expectation clear in her voice, her hands making a shooing motion. "Go, be good sociable drivers. The photos will start soon, then press. I only want positive stories about Williams today, got it." We both nod, every bit the obedient children put in place by coach.  
"Oh and one more thing" Claire adds as an after thought. "I don't want to see any PDA. Keep it professional."  
I make a point to turn away before she can see the blush I'm sure is now coloring my cheeks. Only later do I wonder why George would be blushing too.   
Out on the track, it's mostly just us and other drivers right now.  
Daniel, apparently, didn't get the PDA memo and jogs over too me, pulling me into a feet-off-the-floor hug once we're free from Claire. The 3 drivers he'd been talking to follow hesitantly behind him, all fixing me with the apprehensive looks, so different from the one's of heat and want and jealousy they'd been giving me just months earlier when all I was to them was a girl on Daniels arm.  
"Hey" he whispers, oblivious to the many staring eyes around us, his head pressed into the space where my shoulder meets my neck. He hot breath on my exposed skin is a feeling I'm all to accustomed to and I can't help but relax a little in his familiar hold. "Sorry I missed you last night."  
"It's fine" I whisper back. All to quickly he's pulling. Back and away. For a second my hold on him tightens, then I remember myself and allow him to pull away. The movement isn't lost on him and he stares at me for a moment, his eyes searching my own.   
"You look amazing" he whispers. I roll me eyes at his attempt at distraction. "No really." Quick to back pedal "I meant you look... Like you belong." All I can give him is a smile. It's not enough to convey my gratitude for him in that moment but it's a start.  
When we pull away Daniel keeps my hand in his. With an apologetic smile I slip it free from his hold. He let's me, but I don't miss the hurt in his eyes when I do.  
"Did you just get here? I can show you around if you like, introduce you." For the second time in as many minutes I give him what I can only hope is an appropriately apologetic smile. "Thanks, but I think me and George are gonna make the rounds together. You know how good it will look if we present a strong partnership." I give him a smile I know he can't argue with. I can only see Daniels face when him and George exchange looks over my shoulder but after a couple of unexpectedly tense seconds Daniel returns the grin to me easily enough.  
"Will I see you tonight?" It's an offer, an apology. His smile turns hopeful.  
"Yeah" he breathes.   
***  
George doesn't say anything when I watch him walk away or when we begin to make rounds. In the wake of my awkward exchange, George makes a B-line for the two drivers talking to themselves off to the side. As we near, the two's familiarity with each other is clear. By the way George easily greets them and at once lapses into the conversation, it's clear the strange familiarity extends to him too.   
It's only the third or forth time I've been with my teammate while also in the presence of Alex Albon and Lando Norris and I find myself once again taken aback by the strange intimacy these three seem to share. All around us are people, and yet next to the three of them, I might as well be alone.   
Only when I force a cough does George once again turn to me, surprise on his face like hed already forgotten I was there before it's replaced by recognition then sheepish apology.  
"You remember Alex and Lando?" He says, intent clear in his voice. The 3 of us shake our heads in confirmation but exchange handshakes all the same.   
"How are you? Excited for your rookie year?" Lando asks, his voice all honest curiosity. When I meet his eye, a reply on my lips, to my surprise, I find him watching me, like a hawk, assessing, trying to determine if I am predator or prey. He's met me before but something about that look tells me he never expected me to get this far. I file away that look for later, taken aback by the knowledge in his eyes, such a sharp contradiction to the the aloof kid the world knows him as. The lie slips off my tongue, well practiced, it sounds like the only truth.  
"I'm thrilled. Just happy to be here." Lando gives me an indifferent look.  
Then, with my interjection into the little group, the conversion dies off. The silence quickly threatens on awkward and I desperately try to revive the conversation, ignoring the turmoil now churning that much more in my gut.  
"So, are you guys excited for the season?" All three exchange glances.  
"Yea." Alex says slowly, then with mischief in his voice, "I'm just happy I'm not a rookie."  
Lando giggles at that and I don't miss the the look the two boys give him in that moment when he's caught off guard in shameless delight (at my expense). It's a look I've seen a thousand times. One I wish in that moment I hadn't seen. It's one I find myself hoping one else saw. Around here, looks like that, especially between them, could cause everything they've worked so hard for to be lost.   
Then again, I'm sure they're already far to aware.  
Still, with so much warmth in his eyes for the shorter driver, George, without even turning his head, proceeds to whack Alex over the back of his head.   
Landos giggles are promptly washed out by Alexs loud, "Hey! What the hell!"  
"Don't say that he say, she's just trying to be polite, stop trying to scare her."  
"I wasn't being mean! She asked, I answered! Being a rookie sucks. Not to mention everyone hates her."  
Georges's eyes finally slid to the man next to him. Before anyone can say something, George has got his hand on the other drivers chest, fingers splayed flat, and pushes.  
Taken off gaurd, Alex stumbles back. Panic lights his eyes bright as his foot catches where grass meets pavement and he goes down. Again, the many eyes at this event focus on us, if not on me or the driver on the ground, then on Lando, who's giggles now bounce off the rest of the occupied track.   
"Fuck" Alex spits from his place on the ground, his voice lower in light of the new attention. Landos ensuing giggles drown out an more profanity Alex might spew as he gets himself back on his feet.  
He turns to me. I cross my arms over my chest, tensing for a fight. Clare had only mentioned PDA in activities strictly not allowed, I wonder how she will react to me getting into a fight.   
Alex look turns sympathetic.  
"Look, I'm not trying to be mean. It's the way rookie year works. Besides, did you really think you'd be accepted here when you slept your way to the top?"  
This time I'm the one that pushes him. Hard. It's childish, I know, but I'm spurred on by Lando's giggles and my teammates actions and this time all that's there to catch him is hard track and when his body meets pavement it's audible.  
Both me and Lando are giggling now. By the time we stop, and Alex has gotten to his feet looking very indignant, he sends me a smile. "It's really just the way rookie year works. If it helps any, I'm glad you're here."  
I give him a tentative smile.   
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah" he grins. "With you here I'm now neither the shortest nor the youngest on the grid." I snort, my vast heel collection on my mind.  
"Enjoy it while you can." He sends me a confused look but just then there's a tight pain in my ear. I hiss when the pressure pulls, George flailing just as helplessly beside me as Claire drags us from the two other drivers.  
My hand is on my ear the second her hold is gone, trying to rub away the indents her short nails left in cartilage. Beside me V  
George does the same.   
"Stop it" She hisses. "Stop making fools out of your selves. This is a professional event, act like it!" With a final pointed look she's gone again, back to the constant call of schmoozing with sponsors and press.  
George looks at me sheepishly, his had awkwardly scratching at the nape of his own neck. "Sorry about that."  
I give him a crooked smile.  
"Don't worry about it, I was right after all."  
"Right?" He gives me a confused look.  
"Yup" I say, victory in my voice. "I was right, everybody hates me."  
He sighs. "Avalon."  
"No, really, it's okay." I tell him, giving him my best smile. "It's just the way rookie year works right?" In the back of my mind, I really hope it is. The thought that Daniel and George may continue to be the only people who talk to me is not one I want to consider.  
I stand alone, surrounded by my heroes. Will I join their ranks or fade into obscurity once again. Only time will tell.  
***  
That night I text Daniel to come over, only after I've convinced George that I am in fact fine and that yes, it's fine if he leaves me to go hang out Lando and Alex. Of course I make him promise to bring me back ice cream but if he feels like he owes it to me that's his own doing, not mine. Daniels reply is almost immediate. Ultimately I'm alone in the house that me and George have rented for all of 15 minutes before Daniel is knocking at the door. When he greets me it's with a broad smile and a kiss that promises of more to come. Then he's slipping past me inside.   
"Wow" he says, stopped abruptly just inside.  
"What?" I ask, still not looking at him as I busy myself closing and locking the door.  
When I turn to him hes not looking at me, but all around us.  
"How the fuck did you afford this?" He asks, awe in his voice. I smile, leaning back against the closed door. "Nice right?"   
"Yeah... " he agrees, now turning back to me. "Are we breaking and entering right now?" I scowl at him.  
"No" I say, drawing out the o sound so my lack of amusement is clear. "Im an F1 driver, Daniel. Your insinuation hurts me." I feign a look of pain. He snorts.  
"Yeah, one that isn't getting paid shit, unless you've forgotten. Seriously, if you're including me in your illegal schemes the least you could do is tell me about it." He pouts now. For a grown ass man, he's surprisingly good at it.   
I roll my eyes at him. "It was a gift"  
"A gift" he cuts me off, disbelief clear in his voice.   
I only smile back. "Yes, a gift."  
"From who"  
"My parents." That stops him short. I can practically see the little gears turning in his head, trying to decide if he believes me. Trying to decide how this fits into the story of me.  
"You're parents can afford all this?" He asks me slowly, looking around at the souring ceiling and marble walls.  
"Come on Daniel, don't look so surprised. No one is in this sport without money, let alone in karting." He can't argue with that. This sport is an expensive one. Even if you have the talent to get to f1, you need to at least have some experience in the karts and without money or a foot in the door, that just doesn't happen.  
"So" he finally say, "I guess this explains why you were cool signing for nothing."  
I give him a smile. "What can I say, not everyone can be worth 17 million."   
He returns the smile. Sensing an end to this particular line of questioning, I sidle closer to him. He takes the hit and pulls me in, his arms settling easily around my hips.   
"You looked so fucking good today." He says. Up close he was even more beautiful. His soft curls falling in his face, his smile taking up most of said face. He's giddy, like a kid with candy. To have that kind of glee directed solely on me, I blush under the attention.  
"I mean, you know how I feel about you in those overalls, not to mention you're tinier then Lando and you had all the drivers out there shitting their pants. It's was fucking awesome."  
I gasp. "They were not!"  
He guffaws, "They were too! You've got them all terrified."  
I give him a pointed look. "Hate me? Yes. Fear me? I don't think so"  
"Hate you?"  
"Come on, don't be stupid."  
Hes silent for a long moment. All I can do is hold on. He doesn't speak again till I'm back to looking him in the face. Then, "They don't hate you." I open my mouth to protest but he doesn't stop. "They don't know you enough to hate you. Fear you on the other hand?" He chuckles. "They can definitely fear you."  
"And why would they do that?"  
"Because" he says, "You're an unknown. No one knows where you came from, what you're planning to do. You just showed up, and showed us all up. Then instead of signing to one of the big three, you sign to Williams. You're unpredictable, and it terrifies them."  
We still haven't moved from the main room. The two of us stand, embraced, in the middle of the expansive space, our breath mingling. He smells like cinnamon and mint and fire.  
"Are you terrified?" He laughs. I'm not sure what I'm expecting but it definitely isn't laughter. I'm tense under his touch where he shakes with giggles.  
Finally, "Right now? In all your 5'4 glory? No." he laughs again. "I'm definitely not."   
I pout and try to pull away. There's no reason to bring my height into this. It makes him stop laughing  
"Wait" he says keeping me in his arms. If I really wanted to I could pull away, he doesn't hold me that tight, but I wait for him to speak. "You didn't let me finish. Ask me again."  
I give him a questioning look but he only raises his eye brows, waiting until I ask him. I groan. "Do I scare you Daniel?"  
"Absolutely not, Shorty." I groan again. This time I do pull away, Daniels attempts at protest die in his laughter.  
I leave him in the main room. When he too makes his way into the kitchen/dining room I'm already back at the kitchen table where I've laid out all my class work. If he's gonna be a asshole, then he doesn't get any attention.  
I make a point of ignoring him, even as he bends over the back of my chair, both of his arms bracketing me, trapping me between him and the table, his breath hot against my right ear where his head leans over my shoulder.  
"Avalon" he whispers, a plea in his voice. I ignore him. He let's out an unnecessarily long sign.   
"Avalon," he starts again, "You don't terrify me, you excite me, beyond words sometimes. Today, on the track, I've never seen the drivers like that. You didn't even talk to them and most of them looked just about ready to shit their pants. And it's not just the drivers. I don't think Formula 1 really knows what to expect from you, what with you turning down Red Bull and signing to Williams for almost nothing. For the first time in almost a decade, the drivers don't know where they stand, and it's all because of you." He nips my ear playfully. "Cause you're awesome." I laugh.  
"Okay okay."  
"I serious" he says, in between laying playful nips and kisses to my exposed neck, making me laugh more. He turns to me know, so I meet his warm eyes, the light stubble dusting his face even more pronounced then usual after a long day. He doesn't speak till we're face to face, him kneeling beside my chair. Then, with sincerity clear in his voice. "I'm so fucking happy you're here."  
I give him a real smile then, my hand reaching out to cup his face. He turns into the touch, a God on his knees before me, just trying to make me happy.  
"Thank you" I whisper. "For everything." When he surges up to kiss me, wrapping arms around me so I don't fall out of my chair, my surprised giggles ring out throughout the house.  
***  
The next day Daniel drives me to the track, seeing as how my driver from the day prior seems to of never returned for the night. Today is mostly press, less sponsors to mingle with, and I stay in the bleachers above the track for as long as I can. Until Claire bothers to hunt me down and send me back. The magazines want to take photos of the whole grid together on one track. Why they don't just photoshop us all together is something I'll never understand.   
They make us all stand together on the track in different formations, cameras clicking all the while. It's probably the closest I've ever been to some of the drivers. Most of them seem to make a point of acting like I'm not there. Finally, as the festivities begin to come to a close, they reposition us a final time.   
***  
Later, as the new season ramps up, that last photo will be splashed across the front of every F1 related media piece. Headlines will promise a new and exciting season. Despite the growing curiosity around her in the fandom, few publications will bother to mention the small red head standing off to the far left, almost cut out by where the photo ends. If they do even acknowledge her, it is not in detail, usually just a couple curt works, an introduction for her into the sport. For now, Formula 1 does it's best to ignore the first women among the ranks in 20 years.  
***  
By this time next year, that all will of changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> Just wanted to let y'all know that from here on out the chapters will likely be more majoritively first person POV as we skip less time and go more into detail.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated ❤❤❤
> 
> Ps. Sorry for spelling and grammar I edited this chapter at like 2 am. Oops.


	9. The Bois

A week before the first race in Melbourne, when I should be studying for the finals I will have in the week directly following the first grand prix, I find myself driving to the San Jose airport. The three boys all come out together, jostling each other and giggling the whole time. I don't bother to get out of the car, only pop the trunk and unlock the doors when they sidle up to the car. George gets into the seat beside me and flashes me a smile.   
I pull him into a hug.   
"It's good to see you." I tell him truthfully as we pull onto the road, even if im more then a little apprehensive about the two boys he brings with him, I am happy to see him. He laughs. "It's only been a week."   
I groan, "Time moves different in the weeks before finals." He laughs.  
"When was the last time you left your dorm?" My silence is answer enough. He laughs again, throwing an arm around my shoulders even as I drive.   
"Don't worry Avalon, you'll have a good time now that we're here."  
***  
With the season about to start, I know in the back of my mind that these boys shouldn't be here. That I should be back in my door room, with my face in a text book, utilizing every moment I have to study before my numerous final exams.   
But when Clare had called me, insisting that I hang out with the three drivers in order to squash any bad press that may of resulted in our little seen on the track weeks ago, she wouldn't be told no.  
Of course, id still told her no. I hadn't been able to deny George though, and his pleas for peace between his friends.   
Claire played one dirty game and she knew it.  
Now I find myself looking forward to a weekend of babysitting. Somehow, I can't bring myself to mad about it.  
***  
For the first time In months, I find myself in down town Santa Cruz. The four of us squeezed into a booth at a popular pizza parlor in town.   
I'm surprised but not unhappy when Lando slides in next to me, we exchange smiles when Alex and George have trouble fitting onto a bench together, both of their long bodies struggling to fold into the tight space. It's worth it, even if both me and Lando end up having to sit criss-cross in our seats, completely surrendering our already minimal leg room to the taller two.  
Collectively, we devour two whole pizzas before the boys show even a sign of slowing.  
George was right in his earlier suspicion, its the first time in a while that I've been around people like this. Sometimes I forget myself without my sisters around. Loose myself to the books and essays and the endless grind of it all. Sometimes, I forget how good it feels to loose myself to the company of others. For the first time in a while, I let myself get lost.  
I still don't know where me and Alex stand, but he doesn't make any moves to be outright hostile like the day on the track. He laughs and giggles and shoves at the two boys with us, just as they do to him. I suspect that around these boys, far from the politics and money of the track, he let's him self get a little lost too.  
Before we leave I make sure to snap a picture of him and George, red sauce and grease smeared on their faces, delight in their eyes. They look joyful and unabashed, every bit the youthful gods.   
When I post it to my rapidly growing instagram account, it doesn't struggle to become my most liked photo.  
***  
That night, regardless of the hotel rooms im sure they have waiting for them, courtesy of Williams, they all end up sprawled out in the main room of my on-campus apartment. After discovering my own lack of a personal alcohol stash, Alex had promptly corrected that issue, seeing has how I was still not old enough to buy, and now, after hours of drunkenly consuming Netflix or Youtube, we're all lying around, too fucked to decide what to watch next. We're not exactly cuddling, not quite anyway. But I can feel more than one body against mine, our respective warmth mingling in the little proximity.   
The press of bodies lulls me, I always did sleep better with someone beside me.  
To the left of me, Lando yawns, his head in Georges lap. At any other time, I suspect this kind of affection wouldn't be on display. Now though, with the buzz running through our systems, trust fits more easily between us.  
Alex shifts on the couch above me and I blearily glance up only to find his eyes fixed on me. For a long moment, we stare at each other, neither daring to break eye contact. Around us, Georges fingers stay a constant in Landos hair, the world goes 'round, on contrary to how it feels in that moment, with Alex staring at me, intensity in his eyes. Finally, I am the first to look away.  
"What?" I ask him. I don't have to elaborate. For a long moment he is silent, and I wait with baited breath. I can almost feel the flames singeing my flesh. Like an addict, I chase it.  
"Red Bull." He says finally, not taking his eyes from me as he does it. "Why didn't you sign with them?"  
"Wait this is about your seat?" I say confused, my drink addled mind taken off guard by the unexpected line of questioning. Still, recognizing the seriousness in his voice, I do my best to sit up, trying to get my thoughts in order. George and Lando groan as we all shift to get comfortable once again. Lando doesn't stop wiggling till he's got his head in Georges lap- his fingers in his hair, and his legs laid out across my own.   
"Comfortable?" Alex asks Lando sarcastically, momentarily distracted.  
Lando hums contently, if he's sober enough to detect the sarcasm, he doesn't let on.   
Alex huffs under his voice before shifting his attention back to me, intention in his eyes.  
"Tell me why you didn't sign with Red Bull. Tell me why you didn't take my seat."   
"You want to do this now?"  
"Yes"  
I take a deep breath, trying to sober up enough to think. Up until this point in the night, Alex has seemed content to ignore me. Up until this point id been content to do the same. Still, I can see the olive branch for what it is. With a glance at a hopeful looking George and a deep breath, I put a smile on my face, doing my best to remind myself that I have no desire to further alienate myself from the few drivers who have actually bothered to acknowledge me at this point.   
"I didn't want it." I start. His laugh cuts me off.  
"No really, I didn't. It was only ever going to be Williams if I signed with anyone. I just went to Red Bull to gain leverage."  
His snort cuts me off short once again.  
"Well that clearly worked out well" he scoffs, referring to my already-infamous salary, or lack there of honestly. I don't bother replying to that. The silence stretches on before us.   
"Well?" Lando says, surprising us all.  
"Well?" Alex repeats questioningly.  
"Are you guys good now? You gonna smooch and make up?"   
I don't reply, uncertain myself of where I stand with the man now. Alex makes a noncommittal sound.   
"She's still only here cause Daniels her boyfriend."  
"Actually " I say without missing a beat. "He's not" In the morning I think I'll regret this declaration. This makes it real. For now the buzz in my head makes everything seem like a good idea.  
"Wait what?" It's George interjects now, giving the first verbal sign of life in probably the last hour.  
"Yeah" Lando says, "what? We are talking about the same driver right? Australian? Always smiling? Kind of my teammate?"  
"Yes, I know who he is. He's not my boyfriend though."  
They all turn to me now, matching looks of confusion on their faces. I only shrug.  
"He's just... Not. I mean, don't get me wrong, we care about each other, and when we're together, we'll he's just as much mine as any other lover, but with our lives, in this world, you boys should now better then anyone that commitment just isn't practical." It's the first time I've talked to anyone about Daniel, about what lies between us, about what we both agreed we wanted during those long hours in the sun together. I don't know why I have the sudden urge to cry when I do.  
I take a deep breath, trying to regain any semblance of sobriety I still may have. I go on, "regardless, I did not 'sleep my way to the top' as you so elegantly put it. How could I of? Daniel didnt even know I could drive like that till the track in Italy." I laugh at the memory. "He was sooooo mad, thought I was just a stupid girl with a death wish. He didnt help me talk to Red Bull, I did that all on my own. Yes, he came to Williams but only because he insisted and as George knows and will tell you, I left him outside when contracts started actually being signed. If I have a seat, you bet your ass its because I deserve it. It's because I worked for it, proved I have the skill for it. You really think id be here if I didn't? You really think that a woman would be invited onto the grid without real talent, promise. I may be close with Daniel, but he had no say in this, I wouldn't let him."  
For a long moment there is silence.   
Finally, "He didn't know you could drive like that when be put you in his car?" Alex asks.   
"Nope"  
"Damn."  
***  
In the morning we all wake up wrapped up in each other. To my surprise, there is no shame in it. No eager moves to detangle. Slowly, gradually, with no verbal help on their part, these three gods, still just boys, let me in.  
***  
Over coffee, then in the car, and during lunch, they let her in. Into all that lies between them. It's an offer, a tentative one but an offer all the same. For whatever reason, mabey prompting by George or mabey just by silent agreement, they begin the long and arduous process of giving her all that they are. Whatever that may entail, they offer it all up. It is hers for the taking.  
For them it is an offer.   
For her it is a gift.  
***  
On the last night they're here, with the sun sinking into the horizon, I lead them into the rolling Santa Cruz hills. In just a few short months the grasses that cover these expansive hills will turn brown, baked by the long sun. For now, the land is green, all the way till it hits the beach in the distance, then blue stretches on till the horizon.   
Wrapped in each other, we settle in the grasses to watch the sun set. As the light dims and the sky becomes a kaleidoscope of colors, we exhale acrid smoke.   
George is the only one thats done this before, made evident by Lando and Alex's subsequent coughing fits. The two of us laugh in high keens as the two boys splutter into the night. To their credit, they keep coming back, like lambs to the slaughter they return after each fit of coughs, by the time we return to my apartment, they're just as fucked as me and George.  
***  
Over the course of that first weekend together, under the guise of peacemaking and camaraderie, the three of them, unbenounced to the rest of the world, begin the lengthy process of becoming four.   
***  
When I drive them to the airport, the air is tense. In just a week, the next time we see each other, we will all be at battle. Good byes are bitter sweet but necessary. This marks the end of the weekend, only time will tell if it marks the end of us too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this may be the fastest I've posted a chapter in a while. Probably cause this chapter is just a filler ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Anyways I hope y'all liked this chapter, thanks for reading!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Especially just screaming into the void :))


	10. Off To The Races

I fly out to Melbourne the Thursday before spring finals. In just 3 days I will be flying back out to California in order to make my Monday exams. I vow to not waste the little time I have this weekend.  
Me and three boys rent a huge house together, figuring we might as well go all out on the first race of the season. As it is, I don't spend much time at the lavish house, only bothering to drop by to drop off my luggage before I'm back in my rented car once again, the address that Daniel had sent me now in my GPS.  
***  
In the morning, when I pull back up in front of the house, honking so the boys will know im here and come out, its with Lana Del Rey's "fucked my way up to the top" blasting through speakers. Lando is the first to emerge, cackling all the while as he makes his way to the car and jumps into the passenger seat. Like me he's dressed in his driving overalls. Unlike me, he's now the shorter of the two, seeing as how this time, in addition to my overalls, im once again rocking heeled combat boots. I doubt they'll actually let me do qualifying in them but until I actually have to get in the car, they aren't coming off.  
Once George and Alex have taken their seats, we speed off towards the track, the lyrics of Lana's song still blasting, even as we pull into the paddock.  
***  
I pointedly ignore the eyes we attract as I slide into the slot George directs me too. It's the first time I've been to this track and to say I'm starstruck would be putting it lightly.  
The boys are jumping out the second the car has stopped.  
It takes me considerably longer to get to my feet, tall heels struggling to find purchase on uneven ground. Still, its worth it when Lando groans, once again the shortest of the group.  
"You know they're gonna make you take those off." he wines, eyeing my shoes with resentment. I just flash him a smile.  
"I highly doubt that."  
***  
The first thing Claire says when me and George find her in the paddock is "what happened to your racing shoes?"  
George snickers beside me.  
"They're in my bag, relax."  
She nods and does seem to visibly deflate a little. It's clear she's stressed about this race. I would be too if I was the principal of a team putting all their hopes into an untested rookie, if not a very talented one at that.  
I give her a confident smile. One that I think she needs to see right now. From the very talented, untested rookie's point of view, there's no where to go but up.  
***  
When I was just three years old my aunt took me to her shop for the first time. I don't remember it, how could I? But a picture from that day still stands on my bedside table in the first home I ever grew up in. A picture in which I sit in my very first kart, my aunt beside me, huge, matching smiles on both our faces.  
In karting, I fell for the speed first and foremost. For the flash of ground beneath me. For the wind in my hair. For the feeling that no one, not even those watching on the stands, or the adults at home, could touch me.  
Karting when there are 10 other children on the track with you is a different story. I had to learn to love the competitive aspect that drove me to both tears and eventually victories. Had to learn to love the fight, just as much as speed.  
But i'd be lying if I said I didn't love racing by now. If not for the other drivers, I doubt I would be as fast as I am now. As reckless. As daring.  
It's my rookie debut, and I won't let my team down.  
***  
I don't let them down. When I get out on track, 20 minutes into qualifying, im on fire. I've spent the last months on the same track and now, with unbridled power beneath me and no one else on the track, I let the burn consume me. When I finish, I've logged the fastest time so far. By the time Qualifying has ended, I've secured the fifth starting position for tomorrows race. George along side me boasts p12, setting a personal best, when we lock eyes, still in our overalls and alive with adrenaline, I see my own thoughts mirrored in his expression.  
Together we smile, this is only the start.  
***  
Later articles will run headlines blaming the historic feat on beginners luck, citing George Russell's unusually fast times as proof that it is the car, and not in fact brazen skill. For now, those in the Williams garage at least, are beginning to have hope.  
***  
That night, upon Daniel kindly ditching me for his parents, seeing as how it's the Australian prix and they'd come to surprise him, I find myself spending my second night in Australia with the three boys I've rented this lavish house with. I'd been hesitant at first, not sure if the easy acceptance they'd shown me back in California would hold true here, worlds away. Especially when all stone cold sober as we were, considering that tomorrow was race day.  
But to my endless relief, even without being on the track, the adrenaline joining us, the easy camaraderie I'd experienced with them all day holds constant. We exchange salads and protein drinks in an effort to keep it interesting and eventually settle on watching Monty Python, Holy Grail. I laugh more that night then I have in a very long time.  
It's hilarious in the fact that im pretty sure George is the only one that actually gets the humor. Lando laughs, sure, but more as an adorable reaction to Georges own snorts and giggles. Alex, on the other hand, is so clearly lost I almost feel bad. The entire time he's just got this really confused look on his face. When the movie ends the first thing out of his mouth is "That movie was stupid."  
It only makes me and George laugh harder.  
***  
By 2am, I know my attempt at sleep is fruitless. I've been rolling around in my sheets for about an hour and I only feel more awake then I did when I started.  
I can't sleep with all that's riding on tomorrow. Especially when by my self in a bed that's not mine. On any other night i'd call Daniel, or wander around campus, but I don't want to disturb him, at least one of us should get some sleep, and I'm in a city I don't know.  
I leave my bed in a pile of sheets and head for the kitchen, my mind on a midnight snack.  
I almost jump out of my skin from fright when Alex calls my name from where he sits in a dark corner of the kitchen, making his previously unannounced presence now known.  
"Fuck" I exclaim, clutching the fridge handle in one hand and my chest in the other. I glare at him. "Im getting you a bell"  
He fixes me with a confused look. I groan internally and tug at the handle in my hand, the light from the open fridge illuminating the dark room.  
"What are you doing up?" He asks me, watching as I look for food.  
"I could ask you the same thing."  
He only hums. I sigh.  
"I can't sleep. You?"  
"Same, nervous about tomorrow?"  
I hesitate. As much as I want the camaraderie now seemingly offered by these boys, I can't help but be weary, thinking back to his initial hostility.  
I take a deep breath.  
"Yeah" I say, not looking up to meet his eyes. He makes a humming noise from his corner.  
I stare into the almost empty fridge for another minute before shutting it with a groan and settling for a half eaten sleeve of short bread cookies someones left on the counter. I drop down next to Alex at the table, angling the open sleeve towards him. He takes one with a quiet thanks.  
"How long have you been sitting here?" I ask after a minute, antsy in the late hour.  
"I don't know, a while." I can see in the dark when his eyes brows knit together, "why?"  
I don't bother to answer him as I rise to my feet, the table wobbling under my abrupt movement, and make my way across the room. I only turn back with an expectant, "are you coming" when I've reached the door way. I only pause long enough to see him rise to his feet after a brief moment of hesitation. Then I don't stop till I'm dropping down into one of the cushioned seats on one of the many balconies that line the house we've rented. A moment later Alex slides into one of the seats too. Again, I silently offer him the cookie. He takes one without a word.  
***  
We sit there, watching the city still alive below us, late into the night, till all that's left of the cookies are crumbs.  
Finally, with a tired yawn, Alex is the first to rise, stretching as he does. I expect him to leave with the same silence he's maintained for most of our time on the balcony so it takes me by surprise when he speaks.  
"Come on, we both should get some sleep before the race." I stare up at him, my head having to tilt back now in order to see his face from my sitting position. I give him a smile that I hope conveys my gratitude for his sentiment even as I say, "no, thank you, but go on without me, I already know I won't sleep tonight."  
He cocks his head at me, giving me a skeptical look. "I think you should try again, I know you're nervous but being exhausted on the track tomorrow won't help you."  
I chuckle at that. Don't I know it.  
"Thanks but it's not that" I'm grateful for the dark when it hides my heating cheeks. "I just know I'm not gonna fall asleep in that bed. I, um, am not very good at falling asleep alone." I still blame my sister for this. When we were little we used to fall asleep in each others arms almost every night, when our parents would more often then not leave on work and it was only me and my sister all alone in that huge house by the coast.  
He let's out a quite 'oh' above me.  
"Yeah" I agree then, "Go on, sleep, at least one of us should."  
For a long moment he doesn't say anything. But he doesn't leave. Just as I'm about to starting shooing at him, he speaks. "Come on then."  
This time, when I look up, it's him waiting at the threshold to see if I'll follow.  
After a moment, I do.  
I start to protest when he stops outside of his bedroom but he only shushes me and and beckons for me to follow as he slips into the dark room. All I can do I step in behind him.  
"Alex, is that you?" Lando's voice sounds tiredly from somewhere in the dark room, almost causing me to jump out of my skin in shock for the second time that night. I hadn't expected anyone to be in Alex's bedroom, certainly not considering the late hour. It only shocks me more when Lando is answered not by Alex but by George, somewhere too in the blinding dark. "No Lando, it's a serial killer. This is how you die."  
"This is how I die?" Lando's disembodied voice questions into the dark, affronted. "Why not you too?"  
George answers with a scoff. "Because unlike you i'd be able to fight them off and escape, of course." He says, his confidence in himself clear even in the dark.  
"Of course" Lando responds sarcastically, huffing.  
"Are you done?" Alex interjects.  
"Yes" They say in unison, then just Lando, "Are you coming back to bed?"  
"Yeah" there's a shifting sound then more shifting as I can only assume Alex makes his way back to bed. Im still standing in the dark and I start to worry that in his drowsy state Alex has forgotten my presence. Before I can worry too much though, Alex's voice rings out through the dark once again. "Avalon, you coming?"  
"What?" I think.  
"What?" George and Lando chorus.  
"Avalon, I brought her, she can't sleep alone. Well?" I hesitate, surprised by the turn of events. I definitely didn't not see this coming, especially not from Alex. I can't bring myself to turn down the offer though, not when just the mention of trying to sleep alone again has me anxious as hell.  
"Yeah okay, I'm coming." I say. When no one protests, I move forward, stumbling till my knees hit what I remember as the bed. I walk around the edge till I'm parallel to the boys voices, letting out a choked shriek when one of their hands finds my own and pulls me down. It's a mess of limbs and giggles and warm breath as we all flail, trying to get comfortable in the dark in the bed. I find myself on my side, tense where an arm is thrown over my side and a body presses against my back.  
"Relax" Lando whispers in front of me. I do my best to, focusing on the warmth around me instead of who the warmth might belong to. The awkwardness fades fast in our drowsy states though and soon enough the four of us are fast asleep.  
***  
In the morning we get up in silence. No one's speaks as we shower and eat, or even on the ride to the track. It's not an awkward silence, or one of sorrow. No, it's the kind that screams junkie, one about to get a fix. We're all silent, in anticipation of the unmatched high that is racing in a F1 grand prix.  
Im the first to break the silence, all but squealing in delight when we pull up to the the Williams parking to find Daniel waiting.  
The second the car is stopped he's opening my door, taking my hand as he pulls me into his arms, careful to support me as I lurch forward in my heels. My arms are around his neck and he's lifts me bodily.  
Behind me a chorus of "awe" and "ew" and "Lando, don't encourage them" sounds. I don't care though, too elated in Daniel's arms. He puts me back down but keeps me in his arms as I steady myself on the ground. "I thought I wouldn't see you till after the race." I exclaim, pointedly ignoring the boys behind me.  
"I know but I got here early so I could see you before your first race. I wanted to wish you luck." The smile that I give him in response rivals his own, im sure.  
We leave the boys to lock the car, walking arm in arm towards the paddock, the wind whistling in our ears, the embers within us just starting to burn.  
***  
I wear my heels up until the very second I have to get in my car. Only then do I exchange them for my monetized boots, slipping into my car for what feels like the first time all over again. With the way my heart is beating, it might as well be my first time too.  
My helmet has been on since I got out into the garage, taking comfort in the privacy it gives me from those around me. Only now does the tinny voice ring through it though.  
"Avalon can you hear me?"  
I have to take a breath before I respond, the adrenaline making it hard to do anything other then clutch the steering wheel and focus on the road before me.  
"Yeah, Teddy, I can hear you." I tell the Williams mechanic. He makes an affirming sound and proceeds to list all the necessary analytics I need to know before taking our starting positions. I can barely breathe when I pull the car around in the very first lap. When I pull into my position in p5 behind Max Verstappen and in front Daniel, I can barely breathe.  
"Welcome to Formula One, Avalon, good luck." Is the last thing I hear in my ear before the the light turns green and all goes quiet. My vision narrows to the drivers beside me and the road before me. When I let the engine rip, so too does all that is inside of me. I am lost to the flames in my heart and the speed all around me.  
***  
For 57 laps, I am on fire, leaving the track scorched in my wake. I ride the power like I always do, barely using my breaks, feeling for where the track will hold me and where it won't. I loose standing in the beginning of the race, the only driver on the grid who's never been on these circuits before. From p5 I drop to p8 then p10. At one point im pretty sure George passes me. There's constant chatter in my ears, Teddy's concern still evident through the bad audio. I do my best to ignore him, so little faith in me is not what I need right now.  
The last thing that should be on my mind is all that rides on my performances over the next few months. Failure is not an option, I already put this sport down once, I don't think I'll survive it again.  
By the 15th lap, I start to gain footing. Less and less is my driving "reckless" but "impressive" and "skillful". By lap 45, I've reclaimed p5.  
***  
I end the race two position behind that in which I started. In my formula debut I claim p7. When I pass by the pitlanes in my victory lap, the Williams Garage is chaos. "Congratulations," Teddy's voice rings through my ear. "Congratulations Avalon"  
"Thank you" I tell him, going on to thank the team and my ever growing fanbase.  
In my head all I can think is "I'm sorry" and "I'll do better"  
I can and I will. I have no other choice.  
***  
Once im out of the car, im in George's arms, my feet leaving the ground as he spins me around. Im still not satisfied with my performance on the track today, not when I know what im capable of, but it does put a smile on my face to know I've made him, and all those working tirelessly in the garages, happy, at least for today. P7 is, admittedly, quite a good start. It's better then Williams has seen in years, at least. Tomorrow, work will continue, the fight will continue. For now, we celebrate.  
I only have enough time to slip back on my heels before I am being ushered towards press by Claire personally, only after she quietly pulls me aside, words of praise and pride on her lips. I nod along, barely hearing what she has to say, it's not deserved, not yet.  
***  
On a sunny day in Melbourne, the first woman in history to score multiple points, peaks out from behind a fully packed podium stage, and looks out at a screaming crowd. None of these geering fans are for her, she knows this. Yet, when she closes her eyes, she can imagine they are. She can imagine what It would- what it will be like when she takes podium, when she climbs to the top, to the first place step. When the crowd screams for their champion. When they scream for her.  
She hasn't proven herself worthy of that yet, hasn't proved to them that she deserves it.  
But if she can help it, it is only a matter of time before she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol it took me 10 chapters but we've finally reached the actual racing part of this story. Most of the following chapters will probably revolve around a race in the season so we still have quite a few chapters to go too. I hope y'all stick around for it!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> Sidenote: if anyone who reads this also watches drive to survive, do you or do you not agree that the virtual GPS should be included? It shouldn't be the whole season obviously, especially since it seems we're getting some real races now too but wouldn't it be hilarious if the 3rd season just opened up to that video of all the drivers groaning as they realise the rain setting has been turned on in the simulation. Also lawn mower races.


	11. Blood May Be Thicker Then Water

By my second race, I cement myself into F1 history for good, becoming the first woman to ever achieve a podium, albeit third place. I stand atop the podium, lifting the giant bottle of champagne above my head, a sea of people before me scream louder.  
***  
Later, tabloids and respected news alike will once again report beginners luck, blaming the girls high placement on coincidence and heavy rain, tirelessly reminding people that by the time she secured her win, most top drivers were already out of the race, slipping from the track with no friction on the wet asphalt.  
Most fans know the truth, even if they're not ready to accept it.  
The rain may be a bitch, but it's the true equalizer among Formula One. If her skill stays consistent, and her car stays fast, she may very well have a chance at being Champion.  
She knows it too.  
***  
After Podium im forced to do press, this time with Max Verstappen and Valtteri Bottas as the other two Podium holders. The Mercedes driver is as courteous to me as he has been in the past, congratulating me on my placement even if he doesn't really mean it. Max on the other hand, doesn't say a word to me. Not when on track or podium or when walking to the press obligations.  
Im almost tempted to walk out when I realize I'll likely have to spend the next hour sitting right next to him, but Claire stops me with a knowing looking. With a silent groan I take my seat at the table, wishing that Bottas could take my seat instead.  
When the press starts, it is immediately clear that I won't be enjoying this particular aspect of victory.  
Nearly all the questions are for me, a stark contrast to the week before when id been almost completely ignored by the very same reporters. Unlike the few questions for Bottas and Verstappen, about what they hope for in the upcoming year and how they feel with their teams, I on the other hand am asked nearly every question under the sun relating to Formula One.  
At first I don't catch on, happy to be recognized in a sport I love. But by about half way through im getting the distinct impression that this is a test, asking me things about the sport that a fan would easily know. Im struck by how similar this feels to the day I spent at Red Bull. Before Christen had offered any sort of contract, he'd spent at least an hour testing me on Formula One trivia with the explanation, "The fans will never respect you if you're not just as obsessed with this sport as they are."  
Luckily, I am. Of course I am.  
Not once am I not able to answer their question perfectly. Beside me, Verstappen silently fumes. I'd like to imagine he's angry on my behalf, at the reporters who are wasting time on clearly idiotic questions. I know he's not.  
The second press is over, he bolts.  
Good riddance I think, finally able to take a deep breath in the absence of his tense presence.  
***  
That night I fly home on a red eye, pointedly avoiding any of the festivities after the race. Today I lived out a dream, I did not die in battle. Yet it feels like only the start of the war.  
When I get into my apartment im dropping my keys and bags haphazardly, making a B-line for the fridge in the dimly lit space. With ice cream being the only thing on my mind, I don't notice the figure sitting in my apartment till she speaks, causing me to very nearly jump out of my skin.  
"Avalon." My sister greats me, a smile on her face. I let out a relived sigh and make my way over to her to pull her into a hug. I haven't seen her since my birthday and at once all the anxieties of the day are forgotten.  
"Nix." I say fondly, holding her tight in my arms, she's quick to return the hug.  
"What are you going here?" I exclaim once the initial shock of her presence has left me. I turn back to the kitchen, ice cream still on my mind. She doesn't answer till im sitting next to her, two spoons in my hand.  
"Nevermind that" she says waving it off and taking the offered utensil when I look at her expectantly. "Tell me" she says, leaning forward in her seat, " tell me everything."  
I'll admit im kind of surprised when she does. Even before what happened years ago, my sister had never been keen on racing, especially when it meant I was in any sort of danger. I understood of course, why she would hate the sport like she does, im sure if she was putting her life at risk id hate it too. Its not something we even talk about now though, or at least I had thought it wasn't.  
Still, im by no means eager to pass up the opportunity to talk about the thing I love the most with the person I love the most. I return her smile.  
"Oh Nix, it is everything." For what must be hours, we sit in the dark, passing the ice cream between us as I recount my time spent with Williams, gushing over all the people I've met, the things I've seen. Its been so long since I've been able to confide in my sister like this, the first time that I've talked so blatantly about my time so far in the spot light.  
By the time im done, the apartment is just beginning to brighten with the first sunlight of the day. In just a few I hours ill have my first class of the week.  
Nix sits back in her chair when im done, looking at me for a long moment. I don't move, tense under her silent gaze. She watches me like im a decision she has to make. I can see it when she does.  
"Avalon" she starts, and I tense when she does. She's using the voice she only uses when she's about to pull the big sister card. I bristle for the inevitable reprimand.  
"Is this really what you want?" I look up at her, taken aback by her words. She continues quickly. "I know, Williams and your boys, but is this really what you want? Are you really prepared to give up all you have here" she gestures around the room, "Just to chase a dream?" There's a plea in her voice. I desperately want to make her happy. To tell her what I know she wants to hear. I can't though, not again. I wont survive it.  
"It is and I am" I tell her, meeting her eyes, my voice unwavering. "It's everything I want. All of it."  
She let's out a resigned sigh that tells me she believes me. Sitting back, she drops the bomb.  
"Im here because Mom and Dad sent me."  
Oh.  
That's never a good sign. I barley even speak to my parents anymore, if they've sent Nix, it must be serious. Then again, this is always how they've done communication with me. Just do it through Nix. It's really quite smart on their part, I may hate them but there have been very few times in my life that I've denied my sister. And why would I, up until a couple years ago, I considered her the only person I cared for in this world.  
Of course my sister doesn't see it that way. She doesn't waste her time trying to argue on their behalf anymore, but I know how she feels about them. She has learned to forgive them.  
"Why?" I ask her, my tone pinched. I don't elaborate, there's no need. She sighs in her chair.  
"They wanted me to tell you that you have to stop it all."  
"I can't Nix, I cant-"  
"I know" she says, cutting me off in an equally pained voice. She goes on when I look up at her. "I told them as much."  
"Nix" I say. It's a plea. We both know she's the only one who could've changed our parents mind.  
She gives me a look like 'let me finish', "They wanted me to tell you to quit." I let out a laugh. It's void of humor. It figures that this is how my time in F1 would end. Not at the hands of another driver or a faulty car, but at the hands of my parents and a flick of their wrist. That's how it's always been anyway.  
"How did they even know?" I ask, my voice already resigned. "Im surprised they even noticed. It's not like I dropped out of school."  
She gives me an exasperated look then, "Avalon, if you wanted them not to notice how about not staying at an air bnb that costs 10k a night." I know its not the time but I can't help but smile then, remembering the house in Australia and the boys that had inhabited it with me. I don't bother to argue with that. My parents may not be very good at being actual parents but they have always been experts at money, both making and keeping it.  
"So what now?" I ask, "let me guess, I choose between racing and being included in the inheritance?"  
She gives me an annoyed look.  
"Do you really have so little faith in me?" When I don't answer, she glares. "You should be thanking me."  
"And why is that?" ask her. I may not be very capable of denying my sister, but I can still be angry at her though. She just sneers at me. "Because thanks to me, you have a year."  
"What?" I whisper. She didn't.  
"I did" she says, reading my mind, "On one condition."  
"Anything." I tell her, jumping to my feet. There is nothing I won't do for her in this moment, not when she's given me all I could ask for.  
"You have to win championship this year. That's the only way they'll agree. If you don't win, you have to stop, end of discussion. If you win, well they're open to discussing it."  
"Oh my God" I whisper. Then, louder, "oh my God!" Im grabbing Nix before she can protest and pulling her to her feet and into a bone crushing hug. Just as quickly im letting go and pacing the small width of the room.  
"Oh my God" I say, stopping straight up and staring at her.  
"Thank you." I tell her, my tone serious. For all our differences when it comes to our parents, my sister has never once made my feel like anything other then the person most important to her.  
She has always been the most important person to me too.  
She gives me a knowing smile.  
"Don't thank me yet, you still have to win the season." She tells me. The humor in her voice says enough about her confidence in me.  
I return her smile, already victorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I've been working on a long oneshot lately so when I'm in a writing mood I'm usually trying to get that done. I'll try to be consistent though!
> 
> Also Ima just apologize for the grammar in this chapter now. 
> 
> Hope you lovely readers are having a good day!


	12. In Pursuit Of Sleepyness

China turns out to be a bit of a lonely affair. Seeing as I'd stayed with my boys the two races prior, I'd agreed to stay with Daniel this time on his insistence. I'd been slightly apprehensive when it came to staying with him on a race weekends, knowing him and his tendency to keep me up long past my bed time. But I can't lie, I miss him. I try not to. But since the seasons started back up again, we've been seeing each other less and less. When I'd joined the ranks of f1 along side him, I thought It would mean more time together. Mabey we'd see each other enough to actually become a 'we'. But for now, we are what we are and I treasure this weekend I will have with him.  
The thing is though, this race weekend is no different from any other. We all still have obligations and when Daniel texts me that he's missed his flight and will be a couple hours late, I can't say I'm surprised. A little disappointed mabey, but not surprised. Which is why, when looking back on it, I don't know why I was surprised, when by midnight he texts that he won't be coming that night.  
Truthfully, mabey I wasn't surprised, I just desperately did not want it to be true. I'd been looking forward to falling asleep in his arms for the past week. Now it looked like I wouldn't be sleeping at all. On campus my insomnia and need for a sleep buddy isn't that big of a deal as cuddle buddies are never hard to find on a college campus and even then none of the classes id chosen started before 12pm. But here, with qualis tomorrow, I really cant afford to be missing any sleep. I groan aloud, already feeling myself slipping into a panic spiral. All I want to do in that moment is to go to my boys. Im already greatly regretting not staying with them. Daniel will have some groveling to do before i stay with him again. As it is though, considering the hour, I know that my boys are already fast asleep by now and I have no intention of interrupting that. Lord knows we all need the sleep tonight. I already know I can't sleep tonight though. With the nerves of tomorrow and no one beside me, its a fruitless venture and I know it. I grab my jacket on the way out the door.  
***  
Shanghai is a marvel of human architecture. Two times before I have been to this metropolis, both times with my parents. I remember being too stressed to eat. I remember what it felt like to suffocate in those long years in which I possessed no autonomy under parents rule, when they bothered to show up, that is. Now though, without my parents watchful eye, I step out into the night air and turn left, free to wander aimlessly in my solitude.  
***  
Its nearly 12 am on a friday night in Shanghai but a surprising amount of shops are still open and bustling as I near the the more populated districts. I find myself slipping more and more in to the little kiosks, exchanging freshly printed Renminbi and a mix of broken Wu Chinese and English for sweet smelling pastries and glazed meat. Everything tastes that much more flavorful on my dulled american taste buds. There had been a time in my life where id been accustomed to spicy food, when we'd spent long months in dessert regions as a child and my mouth had begun to slowly crave the feel of fire. But it's been a long time since I've lived anywhere but the US for an extended amount of time and now I find myself just thankful that most of the dishes I try lack any seriously spicy condiment.  
***  
Eventually, I have to stop and sit. While I may of become significantly more muscle over the summer, the shoes I'm in were definitely not made with traversing a city in mind. I circle back to the little kitschy 24/hr 'dumpling bar' that I've passed a few times by now. I vaguely remember George pointing it out the day before. He'll be mad I went without him but mabey he'll take pity considering the circumstances.  
***  
The interior of the 'bar' is made up of a large room mostly dominated by tables accept where a diner type counter stretches around the far wall and along the one to the left of me. With the late hour the bar only boasts a couple patrons. I can just image how it would be to be here with my boys. How quickly the quiet serenity of this place would be shattered. It gives me a small glimmer of glee just thinking about it. With a grin still on my lips, I take a seat at the bar. My shoulders sag a little as I do. Im definitely tired enough to sleep. Im not mad at Daniel for flaking. Im just disappointed. I pull out my phone to text him as much as I wait to order, a smile stretching even wider now as I can imagine Daniels reply. I will only accept begging and forms of compensation. (Preferably the latter and with the least clothes possible.) I slip my phone back into my bra just as the server approaches me, a drink in hand. When he reaches me, he sets the drink down in front of me, lightly nudging the glass so it slides in front of me. I look up at the man, confused. He only looks back at me expectantly.  
"I speak english" he tells me when I continue to stare. I blink a couple of times, pointedly looking at the drink before me. Its dark and smells of something floral. Of bed linens and cold air. Sleep beckons. Mabey I can get one of the boys to nap with me before qualis. Daniel is on probation.  
"No, its not that, sorry. " I look up at him again. "Its just, I didn't order this."  
He nods along like im telling him something obvious. "Yeah" he says. Then points over my head. "They did."  
Confused, I do a 180 on my stool to follow the man's finger. Where he points, two men sit at a table, staring back at us. Across the dimly lit room Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Rikkioden sit beside each other, wearing mirror unreadable expressions as they return my gaze. I turn back in my seat almost immediately. "Fuck" I whisper. The man behind the bar is still there. Hes smirking now.  
"I hate to break it to you," he says in a conspiratorial l voice, "but I think they saw you." I groan at him and he lets out a soft laugh before finally leaving. Only then do I remembered I still haven't ordered.  
I stand with a groan, fully intending to leave, not wanting another confrontation with those in the sport that think I have no place in it. Before I know it though, im dropping back into the seat, my nerves weighing heavy on my shoulders. The drink before me seems to call to be but I only stare back at it stubbornly. Whatever this is, I i don't want it. Surely they will leave soon, we all need the sleep that we can get before tomorrow.  
***  
And im right. Soon enough the two men are rising from where they sit, pulling jacket sleeves taught as they move away from the table. They don't start towards the door though, no, instead they make their way towards me.  
Sebastian Vettel drops into the bar stool to my left, Kimi Rikkioden taking the remaining seat to my right.  
"Hello" Vettel says, his german accent smooth and deep in the late hour, drowsiness apparent. Still, he fixes me with a hundred-gigawatt smile.  
I look away from it, instead looking down at the drink clutched between both my hands on the bar. The glass is still slick with condensation, I can feel the slight numbness creeping into my extremities as I continue to cradle the cold glass.  
"You should really drink that." Vettel says, when I glace at him, hes looking at the glass meaningfully. I unwrap my fingers from, settling them under the table and out of sight.  
"And why is that?" I ask. What I should be asking is 'why are you bothering me' and 'could you not'. It's funny, really. Just a year ago I probably would've given a limb to be in this position. To be sitting between two of my idols, too gods, myself being the center of attention. Now though, im just tired. Once i've slept ill be able to allow these two the courtesy of an open mind. For now, i just want to be left alone. I do not have enough patience for the sexist or overall bigotry rhetoric that most drivers, especially from their generation, seem to be inclined to.  
If ethier of the men notice my tense state, they don't let on. Sebastian reaches over the counter and I flinch back, only for him to push the drink a little closer to me.  
"Its tea Avalon." Sebastian says, humor in his voice like im a stubborn child that he's all to a custom to doing this with. "It will help you sleep." My head snaps up to meet Sebastian's.  
"Excuse me?" I ask, affronted and a little alarmed.  
"What" Sebastien says, now equally alarmed.  
I stand up. "Wait" he says, hurriedly reaching for my arm. He freezes when I flinch, then just as quickly retracts his arm.  
There's a moment of silence between us, only interrupted when kimi raises a hand to draw the attention of a server. When the server nears us, he waists no time, promptly ordering the "same thing as shes having".  
When the dark red drink is placed before him, he almost immediately lifts it to his lips. Me and Sebastian watch him in silence, I am the first to look away.  
"What do you two want?" i ask. Looking down at the drink before me once more.  
The two men exchange a silent look. Then kimi speaks. "I was in formula one for more then a decade. Let me tell you now, the nerves your feeling, the one's that wont let you sleep. They're not going away anytime soon. So if I was you, id take the help where its offered."  
I let out a sigh, before raising the glass to my lips. The liquid tastes like wind by the water. I take another sip before once again placing it down on the bar.  
Then, "Why even bother?" I ask.  
"What?" They ask.  
"Why help me?" I ask. "The consensus within the sport seems to be that I don't belong here. Especially when concerning your generation."  
Both of them scoff. I look up, startled by the reaction.  
"Our generation?" Sebastian scoffs. "Our generation?" He repeats a second time, affronted. "What's that supposed to mean."  
I give him a hard look. "Do I really have to spell it out for you? Im the first official female formula 1 driver 32 years."  
"You blame us?" Sebastian quickly questions.  
It is my turn to scoff. I raise the glass of red liquid to my lips, not meeting ethier mens eyes.  
Kimi clears his throat to the left of me, reminding me he's there. "We seem to of gotten off to the wrong start. Avalon Mimic, Seb and I would like to extend to you a warm welcome to Formula 1. I must admit, in my youth, I may of failed to advocate properly for other drivers. However, seeing as Sebastian and I have become fathers to beautiful smart capable daughters in recent years, nothing brings us more joy, nor hope for the future, then to have you out on the grid with us. We come to you with nothing but good intention."  
***  
The three of them sit in the bar talking till there is no more liquid to be found in the glasses. Then the the two men begin to make their way back to their shared hotel room for the night accompanied by, upon their insistence, the girl, who trails tentatively between them. Minutes later, even more, tentatively, she finds her self crawling into the single master bed in the suite with them. For the two men, this act of sharing a bed, of sharing warmth. It is not new to them. For long before ethier had children or wives, they had eachother, and the other drivers on the grid. Taking solace in one of the few people in this world who understands the position that they are in, weather platonic or not, is nothing new to them. For the girl, everything is new. But in time, like all else in this sport, she will come accustomed to it.  
***  
That night, still in her jeans and make up from the day since lapsed and cradled safely in between to living breathing, flesh and bone gods, she sleeps peacefully, all anxieties gone. In the morning, on the track, all three of them burn. The following day, when she is alive with victory, the two men are the ones cheering her name the loudest. Coming off the high of her third race, she carries with her the warm trust and camaraderie of 6 of her fellow drivers. Only time will tell if the remaining drivers will extend to her the same kind of trust, and ultimately, if she will return it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all long time no see? Jk, but for real, sorry for the wait. I promise I haven't abandoned this fic, and I don't have any plans to, Im just starting to have to focus more on school again and ugh.
> 
> Anyway I hope y'all enjoyed this update. I don't know if any of y'all have noticed but im kind of avoiding assigning drivers teams.... Last time I tried to add vettel to the story, news broke he was leaving Ferrari and I could just stick with the 2020 grid but idk, im so ready for (as my twin refers to him as) The One Who Smiles Alot and the professional twitch streamer to be on the same team. Peak chaos 👌.
> 
> Have a nice day!


	13. Meet The Leclercs

The first time I talk to Charles Leclerc, it is awkward, if not well intentioned, and leaves me with my mind made up. While the F1 driver before me may be an Armani model, his girlfriend is still definitely the cuter of the two. The first time I talk to Charlotte, it is two nights before, as she skillfully beats my ass at sim racing.  
In my defense, my claim to fame has never, and will never be sim racing. I may be a rising star in F1 but I've known for many years that sim racing is not for me. For what ever reason, the skill I posses on the track doesn't seem to translate onto the digital screen and even in the beast that is Alex's simulator, I'm still getting my butt kicked.   
I try to remind myself that this public humiliation is for a good cause and I find that im not really mad. At least not at the fans I race against, and who I barely know but am already indebted to just for caring enough to watch and want to race me. As for my boys though, who's idea this was and who suggested it too Claire as a great "opportunity for publicity" after I promptly shut them down the first time, well they'd probably all be crowded behind me watching first hand if they could. As it is, they've been locked out and all blocked on twitch. Even so, each time something significant happens, I can hear their resulting exclamations of excitement or disappointment on the other side of the door, in my mind I can see my three idiots all crowed around one small iPhone as they watch from a hastily made back up twitch account. Mostly, I can hear them laughing as I crash out repeatedly. I've given up making excuses long ago, the boys tease me less when I just ignore them right off the bat anyway.   
Im a good eight races in with three victories under my belt when the commotion outside seems to heighten significantly. Im half racing, half listening to the sudden rapid chatter going on on just the other side of the door. I know im in trouble when I can hear not only Lando, but Alex giggling as well. The fan I'm racing manages to lap me twice, I'm so distracted. When it's over, I want to bang my head against the simulator. It's not even fun when I'm just losing. I make a mental note to myself to sew Georges lips shut when I'm done here. I should be the only person whispering in Claire ear this season and that boy knows it too.  
The next player joins me in my game, along with about 5 thousand additional viewers to my twitch stream. Im squinting at my struggling twitch feed, trying to figure out what has just happened, so I don't notice the door noble jiggling till its too late and I'm being invaded. Im hissing at them to get out but they don't listen. They all crowd around the back of the seat just as id expected them to, both Lando and George hold their phones up, the flash on as they both live broad cast me doing my own live stream. I have half a mind to simply get up and walk away from these needy boys but as they so intently point out, the next race is just about to start.   
From almost the second the race starts, I can tell I've already lost. In most of the races prior I've at least been able to sustain at least some semblance of competition. This time though, I really do put up a fight, and even then, Im failing spectacularly. Focusing on the simulator is all I can do not to get out of this seat and kick all three of the boys behind me in the shins, hard.   
We're racing on a beta track already available in the base game so that fans can access the track but also because, supposedly, the beta tracks are supposed to be easier. Wrong.  
I'd like to think that at least an attempt at a valiant fight was captured and streamed, collectively, to over fifty-four thousand people that day. Mostly though, it was just fifty-four thousand people watching as Charlotte managed to lap me three times before the end of the race. When it's over, I do bang my head against the arching piece of plastic above my head. I would've continued to do it if Alex hadn't quickly covered said piece with his hand. I glare at him but he only smiles. I end the live stream there, after thanking all of my viewers repeatedly and promising a better fight in this weekends race.   
When the video feed cuts out, I slump, sighing in relief. Mabey my cheeks will stop burning now.   
"You should have merch bags sent to all the people you raced against just now. Something to apologize for that shit show." George says from some where above me, followed by the resulting "oof" that must be him flopping onto the sofa behind the simulator. I point my middle finger in that general direction.  
I look up at Alex then. He's still smiling encouragingly down at me. I return the smile, just as his own drops away and both he and Lando move back quickly then, startled, as I begin to dramatically flail around in the seat of the simulator. With the way one sits in the professional simulators, it's more like a cockpit then I seat and I've found after much trial and error that this simply is the easiest way to get out. About 10 seconds into the violent flailing, I fall, free, onto the carpeted floor with am "oof" of my own. I get to my feet quickly enough. Ignoring the startled look all three of the boys are exchanging after just witnessing my new and improved escape method, I proceed to swiftly flick each of the three boys on the forehead. They all make affronted injured sounds as I do, huddling away from me as to protect their foreheads.   
"I told all three of you that you weren't allowed in while I was playing!" I tell them, the anger in my voice just slightly exaggerated. After that race, I will only accept groveling.   
"Oh common!" George says, he's still curled protectively into the sofa though. Brave enough to talk back but not yet feeling his forehead safe from assault. "Watching Charlotte beat you was quality content. You can't really of expected us to stay outside."   
At that I take a step forward. He flinches, hard. Then I register the name.   
"Wait." I say, taking a step back. "Charlotte? As in Charlotte Sine, like Leclerc's girlfriend?"  
They all exchange a look then, one I know all to well on them. I don't even give them a chance to talk, groaning, I throw my hands in the air then turn on my heel and leave the room. They're following behind quick enough, but not fast enough to get in my room before I'm slamming the door in their faces. The resulting 'oof' as one of them crashes into it on the other side is music to my ears.  
"Oh commonnn" Lando groans, muffled through the door.  
"Don't be so bitter" George adds. "You didn't loose that badly."  
I don't bother to respond to that. Instead I proceed to cross the little bedroom and flop onto the twin bed. The sheets are still made up as they were when I got here. I don't know why Alex bothered to assign us all guest bedrooms while staying with him when all four of us always end up in his master bedroom anyway but in this moment, I'm thankful for the small claim to privacy.   
For long minutes I lie face down on the mattress. For long minutes, I can hear my boys waiting for me on just the other side of the door, quiet conversation keeping me aware of their presence. Im mad at them, and this is punishment, I know Lando and Alex won't leave till I let them off the hook. But more then anything, I'm embarrassed. And only time can soothe that wound.  
***  
That Saturday I qualify p2 and and my boys take me out to celebrate. I text Daniel where we're going so he can come find me once he's free of the pre-race press. We haven't been talking much over the phone lately with the season keeping us both busy so I'm excited to be back in his arms in just a few short hours. As it is, I spend the next few hours rarely without someone else's arms around me. We go to a club with flashing lights and even more colorful drinks. Some might argue that it's too early in the day for this type of celebrating but after being in 300 mph cars for most of the day, even this fast paced club seems a little slow.   
Initially all four of us dance together. For me and Lando, we jump for joy, him coming in only two placements behind me earlier that day. For the other two, who snagged p10 and p9 respectively, it's more of a dance away your sorrows kind of day. Ethier way, we dance together, none of us should or want to be alone right now.  
Eventually, one by one, my boys do go sit down. Alex is the last to leave me, slinking off with an apologetic smile, towards where our boys await. I shoo him away with a smile of my own and turn back into the slowly growing crowd. I doesn't take me long to find a partner.  
***  
Im dancing with a tall girl with blue eyes and bluer hair when she finds me. I don't recognize her at first, not under the flashing lights of the club and it's not like she introduces herself. She just slides up right behind me, making our little two-some a threesome as she takes hold of my hips still swaying to the beat. I can't see her face clearly, my small frame held in focus by my dancing partner before me, but the blue haired girl is eyeing her with interest and makes no move to pull away and so neither do I.   
For a while we dance like that, I being the inner workings of our little sandwich. They've both got their hands on me, on my hips, in my hair, running up and down my sides. It's hot. How I do love girls.  
Eventually, much to my disappointment, there comes an inevitable end. The blue haired girl bids us farewell, only after extending invitations back to her apartment to the both of us. Invitations that we both kindly decline. Honestly, there's not much in this world id rather do then go home with this girl. That being said, Daniel is definitely one of those said few things and I'm expecting him here any minute now.   
When the three of us, is just the two of us, I'm finally able to get a good look at my second dancing partner, and when I do, I nearly blanch.   
"Charlotte?" I ask, the surprise clear in my voice. The girl before me smiles, her perfect white teeth almost glowing in the neon nights of the dance floor.   
"It's good to see you can dance better then you can race." She tells me, her accent thick as she has to yell to be heard.   
"Sim race." I'm quick to clarify even as I feel the blood heating me cheeks. She smiles wider.  
"Yes, sim racing." she agrees indulgently. "The actual driving part you're not to shabby at." she adds, a conspiratorial grin on her lips that I can't help but return, especially at her use of the 'shabby'.  
"You watched qualifying today?"  
She nods. I smile, remembering what it is to be an F1 girlfriend.  
"Not too shabby at all!" I agree. We walk over to our boys, the three of them now four with the addition of Charles. I haven't talked to the Ferrari driver much this season but when we reach the table, there is none of the outright hostility that I find my self tense with anticipation for. No, the boy is all manners as he quickly vacates his seat next to Lando when I'm called to sit next to him. I gratefully take the seat next to Lando, Charles slides into the booth on the other side, easily squeezing in close with Alex as to make room for Charlotte but to our mutual surprise, she takes a seat next to me instead. They share a look for a moment, one that lets on to how close, how comfortable the two are with eachother.  
Then it's over and Charles is quick to start the conversation back up again once we're all comfortable.   
He raises the glass before him, imploring us all to do the same. When we have, he makes eye contact with me and says, "To Avalon Mimic and to getting one driver closer to breaking Hamilton's winning streak!" We all toast loudly, the compliment in his words only fully registering as I've put my glass back down.  
"You think I could beat him?" I say, sitting forward in my seat. This is the first time I've talked to the 20 something like this, without cameras or press of fake smiles. We're both smiling now though, the grin on his lips conspiratorial and teasing. He makes me wait for his reply.  
Then, still with that smile, "I never said that." I sit back in my seat. Lando sits forward.  
"Alex can you- oh, thanks George!"   
"Aye, what the hell" Charles shrieks as George reaches over Alex to swat him over the back of the head. His hands are quickly at his hair, checking for imperfections.   
"Don't be an asshole." George tells him.  
"Yeah!" Lando agrees, his tone conjuring memories of a child stubbornly stomping their foot. I know they're trying to stick up for me, so I hide my smile behind a sip from my glass.  
"I wasn't done." Charles loudly insists. It's hard to tell under the neon lights but I  
almost swear he was blushing. "But..." He starts, looking around to make sure we're once again paying attention, "-but.... You are starting behind the man in question here on Sundays race and are currently only third in this seasons points. Albeit we're not very far into this season but your obviously quite skilled, all I can tell you is maintain your pace and you'll be looking at a very good rookie season."  
He waits a second after he's done talking, as if waiting to see if it's safe. But by the looks of it George isn't gonna hit him again any time soon and Charles seems to also reach this conclusion, as he doesn't waste time stirring up a conversation Alex, evidently done with me, at least for the time being, his cheeks still slightly pink.  
***  
All around them the the ever increasing sea of bodies moves to the thumping beat. Drinks and and rainbow colored pills flow like the virgin Mary's tears, untethered and unstoppable. All around them people are dreaming, high as a kite and happy too. The girl sitting at the booth in the middle of the chaos, the one with long red locks that look purple under the neon lights. She hasn't taken anything. She's had a shot but it hasn't hit yet. She's sober, and yet like so many around her, she is happy. For her, this is not a false and impertinent high. Right now, she is living her dream, wide awake, and ready to fight to keep it.  
***  
Alex is the first to leave, claiming he's tired. Lando and George don't go with him seeing as the hotel is within walking distance but knowing the three's sleeping habits, it won't be long till they're gone too. It's barely ten thirty at night but with a race tomorrow I can't blame them. I just wish Daniel could hurry it up a little.  
I'm half talking to Charlotte and half anxiously checking my phone when she finally calls me out on it.  
"Okay, what is it?" She says, interrupting my half intelligible rant concerning the pros of Formula One hosting a Grand Prix along the California Coast, which she's kind-heartedly been indulging me in for probably about thirty minutes now.  
"What?" I ask, confused, my eyes snapping up from the phone in my hand.  
"Your phone." She says, giving it a meaningful look. "You've been looking at it obsessively for the past hour. What are you waiting for?"  
"Oh" I say, pointedly placing my phone before me on the table and wrapping my fingers around a glass instead. I give her a sheepish smile.   
"It's nothing."  
"It's clearly something. Or are you really that much of a Gen Z kid that you can't put your phone down for five minutes?"  
I sigh feeling only slightly attacked. "It's just- I had plans tonight that don't look like their gonna happen."   
She hums at that, her eyes drifting to Charles for a moment as if trying to ask him something, but he's engrossed in a conversation with my remaining boys and she soon turns back to me.  
She hesitates, then asks, "Do you need someone to sleep with now? Is that what those plans were? Someone to cuddle you?"  
I can't hide my surprise as I can feel my cheeks heating. It's not exactly a secret that I sleep better with someone at this point, it's not like I asked Kimi or Seb or any of my boys not talk about it. It's just, mabey a little embarrassing. Charlotte must be able to see this on my face as she quickly attempts to elaborate.  
"I didn't mean to embarrass you or encroach, I swear. I was just asking, because, well, if you wanted, you could always come back me and Charles." If my cheeks weren't red already, they certainly are now. Charlotte is smiling at me patiently while I just about short circuit.  
I'm just about to reply, with what I don't know, but im saved by the bell, literally, as my phone loudly chimes on the table. It's Daniel. He's finally admitting to both of us that that it's going to be too late for me to come over. His text is apologetic, expressing his desire to see me and promising to make it up to me. His hotel is about an hour away though and we both know full well I can just as easily climb into bed with my boys if I need a cuddle buddy, or many. (A revelation which Daniel had taken surprisingly well, even joyful mabey when I'd initially told him.)   
I sigh, putting my phone back on the table, face down this time. I'm not expecting any more texts. Charlotte gives me a soft, apologetic smile, saying with a conspiratorial tone, "We're great cuddlers, you know."  
***  
That night, as I wash my face in a bathroom much nicer then the one in my own hotel suite, I can hear the hushed voices in the bedroom on just the other side of the door. A ball of anticipation hangs heavy in my gut as I stare my self down in the mirror. This wasn't how I thought this night would end, even still, I really can't complain.  
That doesn't stop me though, not when someones ice cold feet are rubbing up against my legs just as I've gotten comfortable under the covers.  
"Alex!" I cry in mix of exasperation and horror.  
"What, im just trying to get warm, stop trying to move away." His voice sounds from the dark, just as affronted when he has actually zero right to be.  
"Okay wow." Lando's voice chimes in now too.  
"What?" Alex asks, his voice right in my ear this time. I jerk my head away only to hit something hard to the left of me. Both me and George let out resulting groans of pain.  
Lando only replies to Alex once he's stopped laughing at our mutual pain.   
"Consent, Alex!" Lando cries dramatically. "You can't just go sticking your feet in places without asking first."  
"Shut up Lando." Alex grumbles.   
"Shut up all of you." George grumbles from the other side of me. "Or I'll kick you all out of this bed."  
"Hey!" I cry, louder then the other two, offended at being grouped in with them and their idiocy, I just came here to sleep, not to be threatened or felt up by cold feet. "You kick me out and I'll leave." Alex has the nerve to scoff at that. He's been spooning me and it gives me perfect access to elbow him in the side. He groans but doesn't pull away.   
"She lies." He tells them all in a groggy voice. "Daniels an hour away, she isn't going anywhere." He speaks as if im not there. As if these boys already know me inside and out. Clearly, they need a reality check.  
"Actually, I was thinking of going and taking Charlotte up on her offer. Did I forget to tell you boys, oh right, well she told me I was welcome anytime." I can hear the smile in voice. It only grows wider at Lando's shocked, "What?!" George groans.   
"Lando, my ear drums."  
"Sorry, sorry" he's quick to say, then, "Avalon, what?!"  
"Yeah." I say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible as I recount the night's earlier conversation to them. When im done, there's a shocked silence.   
Then, "well damn." George laughs, "you really turned down a threesome just to cuddle with us." For moment I don't think I've heard him right.  
"Excuse me" I ask into the dark. "I didn't say anything about sex. They were just being nice and offering to cuddle."   
All three of them laugh and my cheeks start to burn.   
"I'm sorry but no. They were definitely propositioning you. No doubt about it. I can't believe you turned them down! You're in an open relationship Avalon, this is kind of the point."  
I groan loudly. "Charlotte didn't say anything about sex."   
Lando actually chortles this time.  
"What are you? Five? She was dancing like she was trying to seduce you right in front of her boyfriend! Then asked if you wanted to come spend the night with them. It's kind of implied Ava!"   
I groan again. "I thought she was being nice!" I cry. Then, "I could be getting laid, I could have having a threesome right now!"  
They all laugh in the face of my pain.   
"Join the club." George tells me from somewhere in the dark.  
It's Lando's turn to let out an affronted cry. "We were gonna have sex tonight?!"  
"Try not to sound so desperate for it Lando, it's not a good look on you." Alex tells him from where he's curled against my back.  
"But you two haven't fucked me since the season started." He wines.   
"Oh my God." Both me and Alex exclaim. I'm still not sure exactly what lies between these boys of mine, weather it's a relationship entirely it's own or one more resembling me and Daniels arrangement. Ethier way they have definitely never talked this explicitly with me present before and while im touched to be allowed witness to this level of intimacy, im also thoroughly grossed out considering im still in bed with the three of them.   
"The next person to talk is getting kicked out of bed!"  
There's silence for all of five minutes before Alex can't help himself.  
"You really turned down a threesome with Charles Leclerc and Charlotte Sine."  
The satisfaction I get from the sound of his body hitting the floor is comparable to that of a pole position high.  
***  
It doesn't take long for the three boys to fall asleep after that, speed and fire on their minds. For the girl, it takes her a lot longer to fall into sleeps embrace, replaying the nights events over and over in her mind, wondering if she'll get another opportunity to take Charlotte up on her offer.  
***   
The next day brings little answer, for Daniel arrives bright and early, and demands all her attention. When they race that night, they burn together, and when they pass the finish line it is with their cars nose to nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important:
> 
> When I first started writing this fic it was right after binge reading a whole lot of fanfic for this fandom. Quite a few of the fics featured a lot of polyamory, where in most of the drivers would causally sleep together. I really liked that aspect of the story, I think the idea of f1 drivers being pretty close with each other makes a lot of sense. I think being an f1 driver, like any other type of celebrity, can definitely be amazing, but I think it can likely also be very lonely. Most f1 drivers have been racing, and have dedicated their lives and social lives to races since they were babies™. It wouldn't surprise me that other drivers are the few people in the world that they feel that they can confide in. So, when writing a story about an outsider coming into the sport, I wanted intimacy with the other drivers to play a part in that. And I consider sex, both platonic and romantic, to be a part of the intimacy that the drivers share in this fic. And so that will include the main character. I've also decided that the end game relationship will probably include 3 people.
> 
> So yeah, I've been having a lot of anxiety about if adding these elements will alienate some of my readers but I think if im trying to write for other people instead of myself, im not gonna enjoy writing this fic.
> 
> That being said, THANK YOU to each and everyone of you who reads, comments, and leaves kudos on this story! It literally makes my day whenever I see that people are enjoying this fic and always gets me in the mood to work on updating this fic for y'all! I cannot thank y'all enough! 
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed this kinda-filler update, i'll try to update as soon as possible!  
> Have a lovely day!


	14. Been Livin' In The Future

Two days after Azerbaijan marks the beginning of my summer. Of course, I still sign up for a couple of classes during the summer semester but upon popular demand from my boys and Claire, and Daniel, my schedule isn't quite as full as before. That being said, I am still most definitely a stressed college student, something that gets me no pity from George as he picks me up from the airport. I'm trying to tell him about the cluster fuck that was getting into online classes that will be at a reasonable hour considering our schedules but he waves me off.  
"Listen short one, as horrible as that sounds, I literally couldn't care less. You're just doing this to yourself. I don't know why you're even still going to college, let alone taking summer courses." I roll my eyes at him.  
"I'm not that short." I say. But not loud enough to invite conversation. I don't need further opinions, thank you very much. I'm half tempted to get a pair of heels out from my bag seeing as I wore slides for the flight but I end up completely distracted when George pops the trunk of his new car.  
"Holy shit" I breathe, stopping short and dropping my bags. At once I crouched over and examining the masterpiece before me. "Damn what's it feel like? Actually being in a fast car I mean?" I look up at him, amazement exaggerated in my voice. He only snorts and reaches for my discarded bags so he can load them.  
"Shush the Williams cars aren't too bad. At least not when considering past years." I slide into the passenger seat and grimace at the thought. I may be achieving podiums, and even pole in qalis, and I may have promised my sister I could, but honestly, as the season progresses, im not sure if anyone could win a World championship in those cars.  
When George slides in beside me and turns the ignition over in his new 2023 Acura NSX, I can't help but return his gleeful smile. Especially when he pulls out of the parking lot, the sheer speed underneath us evident in the minimal movement.  
I'm supposed to be staying with George for the next two weeks before flying to Spain together and even though we're to report to Williams HQ tonight, we waste most of the day playing with George's new, shiny toy. I'm let behind the wheel for about 1 minute in total by the end of the day. Fucking brits and their steering on the wrong side. As it is, when we arrive at HQ that night, neither of us can wipe the speed-drunk grins off our faces. Only as we're walking onto the barely lit building and i'm starting to come down from the high do I think to ask him, "Yo, how the hell did you afford that car." George smiles like this question is long overdue.  
"Ah, poor Avalon, all the way in California and so behind on the news." He shakes his head disappointedly. I push him and he just barely catches himself on the wall.  
I'm about to ask him again but we reach Claire's office and he is spared, for now. At least if this has to do with the team, I'll likely hear about it now.  
As it turns out all we do that night is get a new fitting for team overalls. Why? I don't know as i'm sure my overalls fit me just fine as they are but hey i'm not the one in charge of clothes. I'm just the driver.  
I'm hoping that if I go along with Claire's plans, they'll let me in on what clearly must be big news. Neither of them will give it up though. I personally only give up pestering them when Claire promises to tell me in the morning and makes us both promise to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight. It's already ten at that point so I don't know what she expects from us but we agree anyway before eagerly returning to George's new car.  
***  
That night we raid the small grocery store on the corner of his block before heading back to his flat. George lives in London, about an hour's drive from HQ in Oxfordshire, and considering that I can't see him actually paying more for a car then his home, the tiny apartment reflects just how expensive his neighborhood, and really the whole city, is. It's almost immediately clear that the kitchen isn't meant for two people. I'm not sure how that works out, by the looks of the apartment, I can tell Alex and Lando have been here, and quite a few times. I find their deodorant and extra toothbrushes in the bathroom, a pair of orange McLaren racing shoes stand abandoned in the corner and there's still take out in the fridge labeled 'Alex'. I shudder at the thought of these boys living exclusively off of take out and microwave meals. I'm the broke college student here, not them. I don't ask George to confirm my suspicions, his lack of knowledge pertaining to the whereabouts of multiple kitchen essentials tells me enough. I put him in charge of chopping veggies for the Tabbouleh, hoping the task is simple enough for him not to screw it up. I get to work on the Baba Ghanoush. That night I introduce my teammate to Palestinian comfort food, the kind my aunt used to make me before race weekends. We eat ourselves silly in front of the tv and when we both can't keep our eyes open anymore, we go to bed, his long body wrapped snug around mine.  
***  
We're up bright and early the next morning. I try to convince George to stay in bed for just five more minutes but instead he leaves and takes the duvet with him. I scramble to find my luggage, my bare legs and arms now exposed to the frigid air. London and it's weather, I miss California already. Soon enough I give up and just pull on clothes from his dresser before joining him in the living room/ kitchen. He smiles when he sees me.  
"How many times did you have to roll up those sweats?" He asks, eyeing the hem of his pants where I've rolled them up as to avoid tripping. I don't bother to answer him, sliding on to one of the bar stools that lines the exterior side of the counter, separating the kitchen from the living room. Last night I prepared for this boy a full, from-scratch meal. This morning he offers me dry cereal, he's just finished all the milk.  
***  
When we get to Williams around ten in the morning the parking lot is significantly more packed than the evening before. Claire comes out to meet us before we've even fully parked. By the time we've gotten out of the car, she's already gestured for us to follow then turned back into the building on expectation that we've followed her silent command. Of course, we have, and follow obediently after her. I try to make eye contact with George but he pointedly ignores me. I have a feeling that I'm either about to be met with some answers, if not left with more questions.  
We follow Claire through the whole of the Williams buildings until we emerge out on the other side, in front of the testing track. Usually, the track is empty, rained out more often than not, at least when I've been here. Today though, it is busy. Most of the faces I recognize from our small team are present on the track, along with quite a few faces I've never seen before, and I pride myself on knowing the people I work with. Me and George, as the drivers, maybe the most visible of our team, the one's to get the most flack and the most praise. But without our team, we wouldn't get anything.  
Thankfully, I don't have to wait long to find out who these mystery guests are, as they waste no time approaching me, to my surprise. The group that now approaches is made up of three asian women who's fashion and general air command attention and respect. When they reach me, they're tounges claim familiar accents. Ones of cold night tea and glazed meat and good memories.  
"Avalon Mimic! It's very nice to meet you! Tell me, how are you today! Are you excited?" The woman leading the group asks me in a way too cheerful and put-together tone for before eleven am. I send George a questioning look but he once again ignores me. Just as i'm opening my mouth to respond, Claire reappears between our two groups.  
"Ah, Lila, that's where you are. And you've found Ava! Well, I think it's time to bring them out, don't you?"  
Lila gives me another excited glance before turning her attention to Claire fully, fixing her with a bright smile.  
"Yes, I do find myself agreeing with you."  
Claire stops Sarah, a young intern passing by us, and instructs her under her breath. Then the girl is gone.  
We don't have to wait long to see the repercussions of Claire's order. A loud squeal goes up across the yard as the two garage doors adjacent to the far left of the track open. Claire's smile stays fixed but her eye twitches at the loud noise. She must be nervous too, and she actually knows what's going on here. When the garages have opened fully, there is a second where nothing happens. Then, fast as George's new car, two cars zip out of the buildings and onto the track. Everyone present is watching as they speed down the track closer and closer to us till they have stopped adjacent to where our group stands and I can see up close that the cars aren't really cars at all, at least not in the traditional sense. For one, the body is a lot slimmer than most, for another, the vehicles only have two wheels, one on the back and one on the front. I resist the urge to run up to them for a closer look.  
"Ava, George, meet our new partners Lila, May, and Ann. These three women run JIve Inc., the proud manufactures of the world's first ready for market two-wheel car. They've also offered to be a sponsor of ours this season. To celebrate our new union, you two are going to race their cars." I feel like an idiot. Of course, we have new sponsors, it explains George's salary suddenly supposedly allowing a new car and the overall refits.  
The woman indicated to be Lila steps forward suddenly, reaching for my hand and taking it in her own before I have time to react. I resist the strong urge to pull back, if this woman is a new sponsor, she's allowed to hold my hand without asking. As long as it stays to just that. As it is, she's closer now, close enough for me to see a look of pure excitement on this woman's face. I've seen this look directed at me enough now in the last months for me to recognize it, a recognition that never ceases to surprise me. After all, this woman looks star stuck as if she's seen a double rainbow, or a rare animal, or a god.  
"Avalon Mimic, tell me, do you like what you see? It might not be an F1 one car but looks aren't everything, I assure you."  
I look at the cars again. They now sit parked and empty, both drivers side doors sild up as to allow the drivers out. I turn back to her.  
"Did you design them?" I ask. I'm a little star stuck too if I do say so myself.  
"Ah, no, that would be May, " she gestures for one of the women behind her to step forward, the one to the left of her, the tallest of the three, does, "Our chief engineer." She introduces proudly. The woman now beside her blushes.  
I eye the three with a new appreciation.  
Lila must see the look in my eye as she explains, "JIveInc. Is the largest, all female-owned and run, car manufacturer in Asia. What better team to represent us than this one, with two women leading."  
With that, I give Lila my best and brightest and real smile.  
Then I look at Claire. "What are we waiting for?" I ask. I want to drive those silly cars, and I don't want to wait a moment longer.  
***  
The cars have their own self-balancing technology and yet I still find my self fearing that at any moment the car and I will topple over. The numerous photographers don't really seem to care though and keep instructing me and George to lean against them. I try to do my best, Claire watches on over their heads. She's really gotten better at being intimidating recently.  
Only when the initial photoshoot is over are we finally allowed to get into the cars. They don't topple over with me in them, to my great relief.  
The cars aren't anywhere near as fast as f1 cars. But they're not supposed to be. They're supposed to work. And boy do they. George and I are supposed to be racing but I leave him in the dust by the second lap. I'm riding the car into the ground like I always do, I just can't help it. After so much time spent behind the wheel, one can get a sense of a vehicle's limits pretty fast. I can feel the limits of this car, where traction is gradually lost on which corners. I feel them, and I push them, its what I do.  
I lap Georges cautionary ass three times before I park the car. When I get out, the pristine white paint of the car is now covered in dirt and mud.  
"Ooh" I say, feigning guilt as both Lila and Claire quickly approach. "Sorry about the car," I tell them grimacing. Lila just stares. I rub the back of my neck, feeling uncomfortable with the way she's looking at me and the mess I've just made.  
"I'll, ah, I'll clean it for you all if you."  
Lila laughs then, becoming animated once again.  
"No no, that won't be necessary." She steps forward and this time im prepared for when she reaches for my hand. With hands clasped between us and an eager smile on her face, she tells me conspiratorially, "I'm putting money on you winning this year."  
"What?" I ask with shocked, reeling back. But she's already turning back to Claire.  
"It's time to celebrate." She tells Claire, just as George joins us. "Wouldn't you agree?"  
Claire does agree and we're back inside before I know it. Catering has been hired and the main hall is now decked out with an assortment of food and drinks.  
With mischief in his eyes, George approaches me and hands me something. A tiny champagne bottle from one of the tables. I can't help the snicker that escapes my lips. "Thanks for not spraying it on me."  
He shrugs. "I thought about it..." Trailing off, he unconsciously reaches up to rub his ears, exactly where I just know Claire would grab him in retaliation. I snicker again at the mental image. The man is like a foot taller than Claire and yet his ears still aren't safe.  
"I don't know, " he starts again, " she's just kinda been perfecting her scariness, and im not about to incur her wrath."  
I gasp. "You noticed that too?!"  
***  
The video of our race, along with news of our new sponsors hits an hour before we touch down in Spain. I dry heave in the bathroom when I read the number indicating how much money they've invested into our tiny team. They've practically bought us outright. I think back to the hour at least that I spent talking to Lila at the sponsorship party. I remember the excitement with which she talked at the prospect of having a female win the world championship. I had told her to not get her hopes up, at least not this season, not with the cars we were contending with. We simply had not had the money to be more competitive. I guess I can no longer say that.  
***  
That Sunday I finish worse than I ever have in my short f1 career, which isn't saying much. My team still seems content enough, my p-six placement still bringing home eight points. The press, of course, declares this "the end of my luck" and "the beginning of the end". But honestly, that weekend, at that moment, I could care less. I know my abilities, my strength, and soon I will have a car to match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya babes!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Ik it's mostly filler but there's still some character building (if you squint, that is)
> 
> I'm hoping that I'll be able to update pretty quick as I have the next two chapters planned out, it's just a matter of actually writing them. However with that being said im about to get swamped with school work with the summer ending so no promises.
> 
> Have a lovely day!
> 
> Ps. If anyone is wondering about that one shot I was talking about a couple chapters ago, I finally got around to finishing it! It's a Daniel/Max kinda-quarantine-inspired character study fic so if anyone interested in reading that, it's like the only other fanfic I've posted to this account.


	15. My (K)night

Monaco's festivities amid race week are unlike anything I've seen before. I know it's going to be a wild one when JIveInc. reserves a private jet to take me, George and the rest of the immediate William's staff to Monaco, and Lando and Alex arrive just barely in time to bored. Daniel and Max, (regardless of my protests pertaining to the latter) as the respective teammates, had also been invited but Alex shakes his head when I ask after Max. Relief is immediate. When I'd called Daniel earlier to see if he was coming with, he'd just laughed at me, saying, "would I like to come to spend many hours in an enclosed space with you and the rookies? Yeah, I'll pass thanks. But I'll see you tonight right?"  
I assured him that he would then exchanged farewells with him and hung up. I settle in the plane seat next to Alex and across from George and Lando. I usually find it mean when Daniel refers to my group of boys as the rookies, so long after they've proved themselves time and time again out on the track, but at the moment I find it appropriately fitting. After all, these boys are actual children.  
***  
When we touch down in Monaco, it is hot, oppressively so. But there is a breeze coming up from the sea that cools our sweaty foreheads and palms. There are cars waiting for us, big, all black, and with tinted windows. Within them, through the crowded streets of the city, I feel like precious goods being transported in secret. Though there is nothing casual and unsuspicious about a line of blacked-out vehicles making their way through crowded city streets. At first, I like it, all too quickly it's claustrophobic.  
"How far are we from the hotel?" I ask the driver.  
"Just a couple blocks away straight ahead of us." He says assuringly. Were at a standstill in traffic and armed with directions, I hop out of the car and into the Monaco heat, ignoring my boys startled protests. They'll ethier follow after or get to the hotel when the rest do. They follow.  
We are downtown in the city where buildings rise almost as tall as the mountains the border the city. The first floor shops all boast colorful attire, and jewels on bands and trinkets commemorating ones stay in the city. More then a few times I duck into them. I don't have any money on me but in a city this beautiful, I can barely take it all in. Possession is forgotten in the endeavor for seeing it all in the little time I have.  
***  
For the duration of my first four days in Monaco, the majority of my time is spent with Daniel or the boys™. All over the city Me, Alex, George and Lando parade around. It's clear from social media that the fanbase approves of my increasing time spent with the boys™ and it only encourages our respective PR managements. As a result, each of us are essentially given free rein of the city and a company credit card, with the stipulation that nothing goes unflaunted on social media. It's not a hard task. Especially with JIveInc. now happily sponsoring it all. Rarely are the four of us not stopped by people with that unmistakable and yet still undeserved look in their eye. My tagged page on Instagram quickly becomes a travel guide for Monaco's shopping and partying districts.  
***  
For the majority of the week spent in Monaco that first season in f1, the girl, on the fast track to becoming immortal, if not by her own virtue then by the legacy she would leave, rarely saw that other God of the grid till past the time in which the sun descended. All-day long the two lived separate lives, she, a girl fighting for a name, and he, a god fighting to keep his. They lived on planes neither could pretend to understand. But at night, as the city began to bid good night below them, the two lovers came together, in the window-lined penthouse looking out across the city, across the track, across their whole world.  
***  
Daniel took me into his arms and would waste no more time when I arrived. No sooner had we showered then he had me, splayed out across the grand piano that neither of us knew how to play. Outside the city fell asleep. Inside we came alive for each other, in one of the only way we knew how, the only way we could in those days when our love for eachother love ran plentiful but time did not.  
***  
On Friday, with the high of the days earlier practice sessions still keeping me electric, I pull on my other heel then go in search of George.  
"Can u help me zip up my dress. I've almost got it but...?" I ask him on the balcony of his joint hotel room. When he doesn't answer immediately, I wait for him to respond but he doesn't. Stepping out into the warm wind beside him I reach a hand to rub circles into his back. "You okay?" I ask in a soft voice.  
He turns away from the view before us now, looking down into my face. He gives me a reassuring smile.  
"Yeah. I've just never really been able to enjoy this place before. I've always been too stressed about the race and getting points." He shifts so I've still got my arm wrapped around his shoulders but now he's holding me close to him with an arm around my waist. Then he looks back out at the city.  
"Look at where we are Ava. We are so lucky to be alive right now." I'd been looking at his face as he talked, even as he stared out at the city, but now I turn too, looking out at the city that writhed below us, and beyond that, the water that stretched on forever into the blue horizon. I rested my head on Georges's shoulder as we held each other. I closed my eyes and could taste the ocean spray in my mouth. Almost as if I was back home, in California.  
But I wasn't at home. I was in Monaco to be the first-ever woman to race in this GP. I gave George one more minute of calm before pulling out of his grasp and the momentary scene that had transfixed us to the spot.  
"Come on," I say, turning my back to him and pulling my hair, fire in this light, over one shoulder. "Help me zip up. Daniel and Lando will be here any minute and you know how Claire is when we're late."  
***  
Lando's sitting in shotgun when Daniel pulls up to the hotel and there's a brief squabble over who gets it now. Daniel finally pushes Lando out of the car and he, grumbling to himself, gets in back with George. I slid in beside Daniel and he kisses me in greeting. When I return it half heartily he pulls back to look in my eyes, as if searching for answer. I turn away from that knowing stare, looking out at the road. He's silent for a second, staring at what he can see of my face. Then, very quietly, he tells me. "Relax Baby, tonight is your night, and I'll be here if u need me." I don't answer him, but I do take his hand where it lies expectantly across the console. His soft but calloused hand is warm around mine and I breathe easy for the first time all day.  
***  
When we all get out of the car, Daniel coming around the car to help me out, before the large glass building along the water, I get to appreciate how good we all look. All three of my boys present are adorned in fitted suits. I'd done Georges eyeliner hastily before we left and it looks like someone got to Lando as well. Probably himself if I'd have to guess. And I know how good I look with Daniel on my arm, his subtle orange tie contrasting nicely with the long blue dress that fits me like a glove and the additional inches of height I sport tonight thanks to my new pair of Louboutins. I've quickly learned that as the only female F1 driver, the PR packages are pretty outrageous. There's a very good chance the shoes im wearing are the most expensive item in my closet by far.  
Me and Daniel trail behind the two boys with us, my hand clasped tightly in his, him ready to hold me up when I needed it.  
***  
The large building is already bustling with people when we enter, familiar faces mixed in with the unknown ones. Lando and George make a B line for the food laid out against the back wall. Daniel and I on the other hand are intercepted almost immediately though.  
I don't know the man and woman now standing before us but he clearly knows us.  
***  
From back when I was the one of Daniel's arm, I remember the many sponsors that used to approach us at Mclaren fundraisers. How effortlessly Daniel used to converse to complete strangers. It's a quality that I've always liked about him, a quality that I think a lot of people like about him. How easy it is to love him, and how easily he returns it.  
But I've only recently become accustomed to celebrity. I'm still getting used to the strangers who think they know me, and to some extent, do. Especially when all those who choose to near Daniel and I tonight also seem to be those who I've caught leering from afar. I don't know if Daniel notices, he's been doing such a good job for compensating for my unending awkwardness, but ethier way it's not all bad when he's here. Whether he notices or not he keeps steadfast to my side with an arm protectively around me. Claire can glare all she likes Daniel was here before she was and, if im honest with myself, will hopefully still be here, by my side, long after she is gone.  
***  
Finally, as the clock strikes 9:30 and a call goes up across the crowd, Daniel and I make our way towards the center of the room where Claire and Lila stand together. They're both dressed to the nines with Lila in a slim fitted suit that shows off her elegant build and height and Claire in one of her signature fitted dresses. George meets the three of us there as Daniel slips into the sidelines of the crowd. The four of us are handed microphones from nameless staff.  
"Hello Everyone," Lila says into her mic, immediately commanding the attention of all those present. Drawing all eyes to the four of us.  
"I hope you all are enjoying your selves tonight. It's Lila and I's honor to have you all here. We'd like to thank you again, for coming tonight, and for helping to make tonight possible." A excited round of applause follows up Claire's sincere words. She pauses, smiling, waiting for the crowd to die down. Claire was always meant to be a leader. She just needed a team that could back her up. I was more than happy to try to give her that.  
When Claire speaks again, it's with a smile that promises the main event.  
"And now, I'd like to give the spotlight over to an amazing woman. A woman who I am now lucky to call a business partner, but am even luckier to call a friend. Lila Zhou." Lila smiles with practiced ease, accepting the light applause graciously but still with humility.  
"I'd like to also extend my gratitude for each and every one of you as well. Tonight has been a long time in the making and we're so glad to be joined by all of you. It seems like just yesterday that I was jumping for joy, as im sure many of you did, after hearing that the girl we'd all watched race in that grainy little video would now be the first woman in decades to race in Formula One. And too look at her now! It is my honor to be associated with a team spearheaded by two, such a powerful woman. I look forward to this season and continuing to see what the future holds for Williams. I hope you all will join us in our excitement and celebration. After all, we've planned quite the show." With that Lila turns to the far right wall, a wall that has up until now been curtained off. Now though, the curtain is pulled away to reveal two sleek matching vehicles, one white, the other a dark matte grey. Immediately the large room is engulfed in whispering voices. Both Lila and Claire wait with patient smiles.  
"I'm sure you have all seen the now-infamous video of Gorge and Avalon's first test drive with JiveInc. In their SB28 prototypes. Unfortunately, those cars won't be available for commercial use till 2024. Fortunately for you all, JiveInc makes a lot of other fun toys." Claire smiles and gestures towards the cars were all ogling now. "Like their Titanium Bee 370s. Today we've decided to treat you all to a live demonstration."  
***  
Unfortunately, we don't get to use the Monaco track for our demonstration and are left to have our fun on the long strip of asphalt the lines the shore where the large glass buildings rise. We don't go as hard as we could, considering these aren't our cars, that being said, we still put on quite the show. When we get bored of showing off the speed, I and George see who can ruin their tires faster with donuts, much to the crowd's delight and Claire's s later dismay. By the time we're done, I don't think ethier of the cars could make it on to the city streets, not without new tires.  
I get out of the car nearly stumbling, drunk off the proximity to speed. Reeling from my second come-off of the day.  
"Wow there," Gorge says, catching me and righting me on my heels just as Lando and Daniel make it to us, most of the party already slipping back into the building at Claire's encouragement.  
"You okay Ava?" Lando asks with him and Daniel only a couple of feet away.  
"Yeah" I reply, reaching for Daniel. He obediently steps forward and I wrap my arms around his neck so I can lean most of my weight onto him. The adrenaline from our little show is still coursing through me but I can barely walk much more with these shoes on and it's a dizzying combination. I focus on the feeling of Daniel's fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns against my back where he holds me to him. Holds me up.  
I turn my head against Daniel's chest so I can look at my two other boys. They both look concerned. I ignore them.  
"You okay Lando?" I ask, turning his own question back on him. He exchanges a nervous glance with George before answering, "yeah... Im fine..."  
I don't give him time to follow up, sliding my look to George.  
"What about you G, you good?" Again the nervous glance.  
"Yeah Ava, im good."  
"Great!" I say, snuggling more firmly into Daniel's chest. "Then you two can hold it down here. Daniel and I are gonna leave."  
With that I promptly pull off my heels then turn in the direction of Daniels car. Lando and Georges protests fall on deaf ears as Daniel follows behind me, our fingers once more tightly holding on to each other, keeping each other up.  
***  
We still are awake well into the AMs. Im still a live wire at risk of burning this whole city down. Daniel tempers me.  
We're in the bedroom pretty quickly, my dress falling to the floor not long after. We don't bother turning on the lights, the penthouse illuminated by the city below.  
I've got him stripped almost entirely before we're on the bed. It's a scramble from there and im trying to slip his boxers off while keeping a hand in his hair when he stops me, holding me to the bed beneath him with a hand firmly pressed against my lower stomach. My breath hitches.  
"Stop, relax." He tells me. He hovers over me till I take an uninterrupted deep breath. Then, with a wicked smile, he slides down my body. That hand on my stomach disappears briefly as he grabs my ankles and pulls my ass to the edge of the bed, causing me to let off a shriek of surprise. It doesn't deter him. He guides my legs to rest over his shoulders then replaces his hand on my stomach, looking up to make eye contact with me from between my legs. Only then does he lower his head, still maintaining eye contact, as he slides his tongue slowly between my legs.  
I shudder and take a deep breath. Pleasure warms me like his hand on my stomach.  
I take a deep breath. I breathe in pleasure, I focus on the feel of him, and the fire begins to calm.  
***  
The next day I qualify p4. Im just relieved I didn't crash. I officially hate street GPs with a passion. Daniel, that night, again makes Monaco worthwhile.  
***  
The next day Daniel practically has to drag me out of bed. I don't want to do this race. Im too tired and too sure that I will crash on that horrible, horrible circuit. My protests fall on deaf ears though as he pulls me out of bed. At least he carries me to a seat in the kitchen so I don't have to stand on the cold ground. I don't get dressed till we're leaving, enjoying lounging around in one of Daniels tee shirts, enjoying the way he can't seem to take his eyes off me. Sometimes, on mornings like these, I let myself imagine what life will look like in the future, what we will look like.  
I hope it will look something like this.  
***  
Teams aren't allowed to redesign their cars midseason. Or their liveries. That being said, there is still some wiggle room to those rules. It's not uncommon for teams with the kind of money the top three have, to make slight alterations to their cars according to data they have for each race. Not rebuilds, alterations. This is why George and I now drive cars with JIveInc. slapped across them and why I can feel the slight increase of power underneath me. Not enough to give me a definite advantage, but enough to give me a chance. These alterations, Claire claims later, are also the reason why in lap 51 of 56, my engine dies on me. I am in p4, riding Botas's ass with only 5 more laps to go. And then my engine just stalls. Straight up stops. The Monaco roads are so slim that even though im left skidding at the sudden halt, there's not much to go before im in the wall. It's not my fault, I know this. Every F1 driver has had to learn to accept engine failure as a possible outcome. All the same, I know this corner, and can't help but crack a joke, even if it's just to keep the tears at bay. "I am stupid." I say flatly in my best Charles impersonation.  
***  
I get a laugh out of Teddy and am able to keep a smile on my face while those in the garage assure me that it was engine trouble and not my fault.  
But when I close the door to my changing room the tears come like I knew they would.  
***  
George finds me soon after the screaming from the track has let up. He tries to cuddle me, to comfort me, but I won't have it. I just want to left to cry in peace. Is that really so much to ask for?  
He only leaves me alone when I start throwing things at his head. Albeit small things like keys and an earring. When he's gone, I cry harder into my pillow. I know no one blames me. But I can't be under performing, not now, not with JIveInc.'s new partnership and when I've been doing well up until this point. This cannot already be the beginning of the end.  
***  
Daniel finds me after my tears have run out and I lie motionless on the little cot. "Please leave," I tell him, not even turning from the wall to face him. Even if im not looking, I can tell when he quickly crosses the room to crouch beside the cot. His hand is in my hair, brushing away the orange curtain so he can see my tear-stained face.  
"Not without you." He tells me, rubbing my back soothingly.  
I try to protest but he won't leave and he's too close for me to throw things at him. Eventually, he pulls me from the bed and into his arms. He carries me to the car like that, my face hidden in his chest, the paddock near empty around us.  
***  
Only later do I realize the reason for his tardiness being his first win of the season. He'd been stuck doing press for nearly an hour, longer if his principal had had his way. I make sure to do some of my own congratulating that night. And no matter what, I make sure not to think about the days unfortunate events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up this morning wanting to write fluffy Daniel content. This may of just turned out as angst but oh well at least its an update. 
> 
> Also idk about y'all but I was actually kinda sad that I didn't have to wake up this Sunday at 540 in the morning (to watch a race live) and oml what is this sport doing to me.
> 
> Anyway, have a lovely day and please stay safe!


	16. On The Horizon

With summer in full force and nothing keeping me tethered to campus, I spend the week leading up to the Canadian Race majoritively in Daniel's bed. I wake to the view from Daniel's LA mansion in the hills. To the city that never sleeps before us. Sometimes, I go back to bed, sometimes I get up and make breakfast for the two of us, but usually, I roll over, pressing my naked frame to his own, lining up the smooth hard plains of our bodies. When I'm lucky, he's feeling generous, if not he still pulls me to him. We rarely make it out of bed before noon. It's heady, this life, up in these hills with this god. It's not where I thought I would be a year ago, easily. I didn't expect any of it, not the cars or the friends or the fans. But I never would have guessed I'd still find Daniel by my side.  
When he brings me my coffee he asks, "Whatcha thinking?"  
I cover my eyes to look up at him, the terrace unusually sunny today. He's still naked. Sunshine on bronze muscle and soft curls. I smile.  
"I was thinking about you actually."  
He returns my smile.  
"Oh?" He sits down at the base of the lawn chair, muscles rippling over taught skin. I swallow. Thank god for houses in the hills with no neighbors.  
"Good things I hope."  
Pink lips curving playfully over white teeth. He needs to shave. He needs a haircut.  
"Sure." I tell him playfully, getting up, coffee in hand, walking away before he can inquire further. Tomorrow we will leave this little oasis, Canada, bound. Today I finish my coffee, get dressed, and ignore my boy's calls. We pull a dining room chair into the back yard and he perches on it. Amid the flowers and high grasses, he reads to me the history of Monza, as if we don't already know it by heart, as I drag an electric razor down his scalp. His hair is soft between my fingers, golden and warm under the LA sun. Curls fall to the ground like petals. He laughs like there is no end in sight.  
***  
Daniels preferred mode of transport to races is via private jet. It's shocking in its extravagance. It's shocking to know that, if i'm lucky, one day, I could wield the kind of money he, and so many of the men around me do.  
He takes my silence as nerves and tries to calm them the best way he knows how. I'm not complaining.  
By the time we land, I'm a proud member of the mile high club.  
***  
When living together, it's harder to deny him. So, to his glee, we share a hotel room. (Really it's his room and I just didn't book one) I'm just hoping it'll mean that he's able to more reliably cuddle me. He's always so busy during race weekends.  
***  
We somehow swing it so that Williams, Mclaren, and Redbull are all out on the track doing their walkthroughs at the same time. George, Daniel, Lando and I are all huddled together in conversation when the Two Red Bull drivers arrive, who have quite differing reactions to finding the four of us already there. Alex's face splits into a gleeful smile and he jogs over to us. Max on the other hand promptly turns around and goes right back into the building from which they've emerged. Alex reaches us as the door swings closed again. Daniel and Lando sigh. "I'll go get him." Daniels says, then is gone before I can pull him back. Before I can ask him to stay.  
"Let him go." Lando tells me. "They'll work it out."  
I let him pull me away, but I don't tell him what i'm actually thinking. That I could care less about Max and his entitlement, that I just want my boyfriend by my side today. But it looks like this weekend will already be like most. With stolen kisses in the am when we finally make it back to each other. I sigh and do my best to focus on the boys before me that are always there when I call.  
It's not a hard task. If the two Haas boys are the chaos twins, my boys are the mayhem triplets. A bouncy ball has appeared between them and I swear they've all reverted back to their original states as golden retrievers. Someone should probably take it away from them so they actually pay attention but then again i'm not about to be that person. Besides, I'm the only one of our little group who's first time it is on this track. It's beautiful. Trees and green grass galore.  
I spend the rest of the day tentatively hoping Daniel will return to my side. But Daniel and Max never show and later that night, under the veil of darkness, the four of us sneak back onto the track, or rather, into the trees adjacent to it. We toast to hopeful luck in the upcoming race weekend. We exhale smoke into the starry night like the young creatures from legend that we are.  
***  
The four become three outside of the girls hotel on a promise of reunion in the morning. They pull away and for a second the girl is alone. She is downtown, all around her people bustle past, no matter the hour. But here, no one stops to look at the girl with fire for hair. No one can see she's burning.  
***  
When I open the door to our suite, I can immediately hear the animated voices of a cartoon playing from the bedroom. I roll my eyes even without anyone to see it.  
I briefly rummage around for sustenance before grabbing some take out and heading to the bedroom, stripping off my clothes as I do, finally in privacy in the summer heat.  
"Well hello there." Daniel says when I lean against the door frame. His eyes falling along the line of my almost bare body.  
"Sup" I tell him, before coming to kneel on the bed next to him, making a point to switch off his cartoon while I'm at it. He doesn't seem to mind much. I'm keenly aware of the fact that I haven't seen him since he was chasing after Max hours earlier, even if that's probably the last thing on his mind.  
"How was vandalism? Have a good time?" He asks me, laughter in his voice already as he reaches out to rub my leg. Contact hungry as ever. I still roll my eyes at him, this time he can actually see it.  
"It's not vandalism. They gave me the key."  
"Oh really?"  
"Yes really."  
"And what'd you do? Ask nicely?" He says sarcastically. He's playing with the seam of my briefs high up on my inner thigh now and I lean over his arm where it stretches across the space between us so our faces are flush.  
"Very nicely." I tell him softly, my lips inches from his. He scowls. I kiss him till he isn't anymore. There are embers in my veins. Fire in my throat. He's the reason for it, and so maybe he can put me out. Extinguish the flames that threaten to burn down all that we're tentatively built between us. But when I pull away he smiles, then asks, "Ava, what's wrong?"  
I sit up. "What?"  
"I can tell something is wrong." He reaches for me again. I stand up.  
"What are you doing?" He sighs and closes his eyes for a second, withdrawing his hand.  
"Avalon I know you. You can talk to me about it."  
"Nothing is wrong." I tell him and go into the bathroom before he can say anything else. I close the door behind me as if privacy is something that exists between us. It hasn't ever before, it hasn't needed to. But it seems I'm increasingly finding a lot more between us than I ever thought existed. And that is something we never agreed upon.  
***  
When I come back to bed the lights are off and I can see the rhythmic rise and fall of his bare chest in the moonlight. I'm sure he's asleep but when I slip into bed beside him he rolls over and wordlessly pulls me to him, fitting our bodies together the way he knows I like it. No matter what's on my mind, when he holds me like this, it's never hard to fall asleep.  
***  
I get pole in qualifying and am ecstatic. It's a close thing, I go out early and have to watch most of the drivers clock in as well before I'm sure of it. But by the end of it Hamilton logs a millisecond behind me and me and George are screeching. He's lifting me bodily into the air and twirling me and we're still both screaming. When he puts me down it's only to be engulfed in a hug by Alex and Lando. I'm tiny between them and they're kind of crushing me and I'm giggling all the same. Claire congratulates me and I think it's the first time I've seen her laughing in the paddock all year. I vow to make that sound a regularity.  
***  
Sebastian knocks on my dressing room just as I'm retying my hair up. I pull him into a hug, current task forgotten, red hair falling loosely on dark green overalls.  
"What's up?" I ask when I pull away, going back to stuffing my own suit into my bag. He follows me into the small room, closing the door behind himself so it's just the two of us in the small space. The allusion of privacy with the paddock bustling all around us.  
"I just wanted to make sure you're okay." He tells me. I straighten up fast.  
"Why wouldn't I be okay." There's a defensive edge in my tone that I don't bother trying to hide. His face takes on an expression of clear confusion and he rushes to explain, "I just meant, are you okay? In terms of getting pole and all. I know it can be a lot of pressure." I deflate. Busy myself with the task at hand.  
"Oh, yes, pole." I look up at him and smile. "And you'll be starting right behind me?"  
He nods. "The FIA didn't go through with the penalty."  
Neither of us say much after that, but he doesn't make a move to go and a comfortable silence settles in. When I'm ready to go we leave the track together. I don't know where Daniel or my boys are but I'm lucky enough to have someone I call my friend by my side and I'm not about to complain. Our hotels are close to each other and we settle in the lobby of mine.  
The great thing about traveling constantly is the drinking age is rarely 21. Over wine and the first thing I've eaten all day, nerves, I confid in Sebastian, "but what if I fuck up?" And he reassures me, "well then I guess you'll just be human, like the rest of us."  
I snort at that.  
"Yeah right, coming from 6 time world champion. Hate to break it to you seb but you're not a human. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were a God in a human's body just racing cars for shits and giggles."  
Sebastian smiles down at his drink like he knows a secret he's not ready to share. So maybe I was right after all. But then he looks up at me and says, "Maybe you're right Ava, but if I'm a god among men, I hate to think of what you are."  
***  
It's nearly 88 degrees on Sunday morning and the second I wake to the heat is the second I want to go back to bed. Daniel has to pick me up and deposit me under the cold stream of the shower before I can say anything other then "Fuck climate change" and "fuck summers" and "I just want a race in Antarctica."  
"Maybe next year." He indulgently reassures me before leaving the bathroom to make coffee. When I find him in the kitchen I'm still huffing but I kiss him when he puts coffee and a protein bar in my hand.  
"Thank you beautiful." I tell him, he takes it as permission to pull me to him. I'm not complaining. He kisses me again and I smile against his lips. It doesn't stop him. He's got his hands on my lower back and holds me as he walks us backwards until I'm up against the counter, at which point he lifts me on to it, never breaking the kiss. I hastily discard the mug and bar still in my hands so I can hold his face and he scoots in between my legs. My skin is still cold from the water and his warm hands trail a path down my body. His mouth is hot where it meets mine, where he kisses down my neck, searching for that sweet spot. He finds it and sucks. At the same time his hand rides high up my leg. I can feel pleasure on the back burner.  
I push him away, try not to wince at the loss of contact.  
He goes willingly but not without a disappointed look on his face. He looks like a petulant child who's been denied something sweet. I have to laugh.  
"Don't look at me like that." I tell him, crossing my legs atop the counter and reaching for my once discarded coffee. "It's too hot to have sex. And we have to leave in an hour anyway."  
"I don't need an hour." He assures me quickly. I scoff.  
"Down boy." Then add on an afterthought, "Save it for after the race when we have something to celebrate."  
He smiles, reaches in for a final quick kiss, then heads into the bathroom. "Well then I guess it's my turn to take a cold shower."  
***  
It's 92 degrees on the track and I want to cry. I'm walking around in the paddock in one of Daniel's too-big shirts and basketball shorts, and stilettos until the last second. Only then will I even consider getting into a couple layers of my suit. My boys find me on the pit wall with Claire. I'm talking strategy with those on the wall but we're interrupted by Alex's laugh. "Avalon you look like one of my cats after a bath. The heat isn't that bad." At which point I pointedly ignore all those not on the pit wall. I ignore them laughing behind me and do my best to calm my nerves. I'm starting from 1st place today. All I have to do is not fuck it up.  
***  
By Lap 40, the podium is nearly set in stone. Hamilton reclaimed pole, leaving me and Max battling it out for the remaining two positions. It's a situation I'm not unfamiliar with. Both races previous I've found myself battling Max for the majority of it. If I'm being honest, I'd say he's probably my best competitor. Max, even without the strength of a Red Bull car beneath him, is fast, undeniably so. So much of his speed comes from pure talent behind the wheel, just like mine.  
Sometimes, I wonder what it would've been like if I'd signed with Red Bull, if I'd become Max's teammate. With both of us on a team, would we rule the grid or watch it burn? My question might as well have been answered then, as just a few seconds later, both me and Max take a turn. I know he's too close before it's even happened. It's too late though. I feel my entire car shake when our tires touch. It's just for a second, quicker then a blink, but just like that, my entire vehicle is left shaking.  
"Fuck" I gasp. At 200 miles an hour, a second is all it takes to lose everything. I can't tell exactly what has happened yet, just enough to know something is wrong. Teddy's voice is crackling through the headset but I don't hear him. I can't make my car turn enough and for the second time in two races in left I'm skidding, 10, 20 feet. But then, unlike the race prior with walls to stop my crash, nothing does and I'm off the track now, still going easily 100 mph. It's all I can do to get my car to turn just slightly to the right so that when I come crashing, fast and hard, into the wall, it is not the nose of the car that takes the brunt of the force.  
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, im aware of Teddys voice, high and shrill in my ear. I don't hear him though, not really. I feel like im a character in a movie that's just survived a blast. My head is left ringing and I'm disoriented. In my ear, Teddy repeats my name over and over, in my head, it is my sister who does it, 12 years old again and screaming with anguish and desperation in her voice. I can't breathe, waiting for the pain to set in. The unforgettable agony of two crushed legs and a lost dream.  
The pain doesn't find me though, only the first responders. With a hand on my shoulder I jolt back to life. Teddy's voice is louder in my ear now, more frantic, I can hear rapid conversation in the background. The first responder protests when I pull my helmet off, something about a possible concussion. I don't listen to him though, or anyone else as I pull myself out of my car and walk away from it, not once looking back at the wreckage.  
The last of the grid zooms by me, completing their final lap as I make my way back to the garages, thankful for the minute of solitude. On the contrary to the medics concern, I've been injured enough in the past to know I'm okay now, physically at least.  
When I reach the garage I'm ignored for the most part, with my health now ensured, our loss today hangs heavy. I'm perfectly fine with it, content to be left alone. I don't think I could talk even if I wanted to right now. I'm still shaking. I find a quiet place to sit and wait for Claire to find me, unsure of what to expect.  
When I'm found, I'm met with yelling, but it's Max who comes barreling towards me, a few frantic looking Red Bull personnel chasing after him. Soon enough, the cameras that are ever present on the track join us too.  
I've barely stood up before Max is in my face, so close I can feel his hot breath. I'm endlessly thankful in that moment for my decision to put back on my heels, reveling in the way he must tilt his head slightly back in order to glare at me. On any other day his uncontrolled anger would probably scare me. Today though, right now, I feel like nothing can touch me. Max doesn't scare me nearly as much as crashing does and seeing how I've already survived that today, I just can't muster up any more fear.  
I step closer, reveling in the way he now has to take a step back. Clearly, he did not expect to be met with resistance. On another day, I wouldn't of expected resistance ethier. Now though, I'm more than happy to pick a fight. Anything to avoid the hate I feel building in my gut. Not at him, but at myself. I'm better than the driving I did today. I know that.  
"Whatcha gonna do Max? You gonna push me?" I taunt, a call back to immaturity long since grown out of. It's harsh, I know, but i'm also kind of hoping he will. If nothing else, maybe it will get me out of doing damage control in the form of hours upon hours of press.  
He makes a sound of anger then but before either of us can do anything else, Christian and Claire are there. At once, all the fight drains out of me. It's the first time I've been in this close proximity of Christian since I was at Red Bull HQ and all I want to do is get out of here. With Max's handler here, he backs down, every bit the dog bending to its master's will. Claire on the other hand, makes a point of subtly placing herself between me and the two men decked out in Red Bull uniform as she demands, "What is going on here?"  
I have never been more happy with my choice of teams then in that moment.  
When neither me or Max speaks up, the two principals share an unreadable look over our heads. Then, without a word, Christian turns away, Max trailing behind him as they leave. The second they're gone, the last embers of fight leave me, I slump back in my seat, bracing for Claire's inevitable anger.  
Instead she asks, "Are you okay?"  
I'm not sure if she's referring to the crash or my altercation with Max but I nod anyway. We both know i'm not but she doesn't push me anymore, at least not today.  
"Go home Avalon. We'll talk tomorrow." I look up at her, shocked to be released so soon. But she's already turning away and I'm not about to complain.  
***  
All I want to do is go back to the hotel and lie in Daniels arms. But I can't find him and George finds me before I can even think to ask. "Come on." He says when he finds me looking lost in the paddock. He takes my hand in his. "I'm taking you home." I go with him even as I protest. "Wait, I need to find Daniel, I don't think I should be alone." My voice breaks and I can't look at him. He just holds my hand more tightly, holding my up, holding me together. "Then you're coming with me. Of course I won't leave you alone."  
***  
By the time we get to the hotel room I exhausted. George wants to talk about it, I know he does, but he doesn't push me and I don't bring it up. All the fight and adrenaline has drained out of me and I feel too full and too empty all at once and I have no idea how to tell him that. I miss Daniel.  
George doesn't make me talk but he does make me eat. In silence he scrambles almost an entire box of eggs, far too much for two people but I don't bother to question it. When I've finished my plate, to his level of satisfaction, he helps me strip off the layer of fireproofs, the day's ungodly temperature now barely registering.  
At some point we move to the couch. George puts on an episode of Rick and Morty and I force a smile, showing gratitude for the appearance of my favorite show. But I can barely pay attention. I can barely do anything at all. I'm on a couch with George in Monza but in my mind I'm somewhere in the Netherlands circa 2015. I'm in a hospital bed and I can't feel my legs. I am 12 years old and my sister is crying and my parents and my aunt are screaming at eachother somewhere close by but far away and I can't feel my legs.  
***  
At some point we're not alone anymore. Lando and Alex and Charles are all so loud when they arrive. I retreat into the bathroom, claiming I need a shower, my skin slick with sweat when I finally peel off my remaining layers of fireproofs and suit. All signs point to it still being hot as balls outside, and yet I don't feel anything. I turn the water on in the shower and get in.  
***  
I only register that I'm not alone in the bathroom when Charlotte is calling for help from above me. I'm aware of the icy water hitting my skin only once it has ceased. She must have turned it off. Then George is there, lifting my naked body up and out of the tub. I try to tell him to stop, that I can do it myself, but when I try to open my mouth my teeth chatter together.  
"Is she okay?" Someone asks from outside the bathroom.  
George puts me down on the closed toilet and Charlotte is ready and waiting with a towel. George brushes wet hair out of my face. "She gonna be fine." He calls out to whoever asked, never breaking eye contact with me. Like he's telling me it to me rather than someone else. "Isn't that right Ava?" He says. But this time his voice wavers. He needs confirmation. I try to nod but I'm too cold. I'm still naked and my skin is ice to the touch. "W-where's Daniel?" I ask. George breaks eye contact with me to share a look with Charlotte.  
"I don't know." He says slowly, then, "do you want me to call him?"  
I nod. "Okay." He says, leaving after he promises to be back.  
"Can I help you get dressed?" Charlotte asks me once he's gone. If I had my wits about me she would be denied. As it is I nod my head and she gently helps me stand on numb joints. I just want to get into the oversized clothes George has brought me but she insists on me drying off first. She takes the towel from me when I just hold it and, after getting permission, helps me dry off. Then she helps me dress and tie my still wet hair back. We stand in front of the mirror as she does and I watch her in it. Even in my dazed state I can still appreciate how beautiful she is. Leave it to Charles to find someone more classically attractive than him.  
I laugh out loud at that thought. Charlotte smiles behind me. "What's so funny?"  
"Oh gosh, this is just so embarrassing." I tell her, my current frazzled state bring out the honesty in me. Her face contorts in the mirror. "What do you mean?" She asks, scrutinizing me. I sigh and cover my face with my hands.  
"I mean this. Everything. My shitty race today. My inability to care for myself. I mean you practically just had to dress me." I can feel the heat behind my eyes and I shut up, trying to focus on my breathing.  
"Hey, hey, hey!" She says, she's before me now, gently pulling my hands away from my face so she can look me in the eyes. "Avalon today you crashed into a wall at 100 miles an hour. You have every right to be a little fucked up over it. What you don't have the right to do is shut down. Don't block us out, not now, not when we're here for you. Not when you need it." The desperation in her voice snaps me out of my pity party. The way she talks makes it sound like she talks from experience. I think about the crashes Charles has been in since she entered his life. I think I need to give this woman some more credit. I give her a watery smile. Trying to imitate humor I ask, "I hope that means your invitation, for Ya know, cuddles, still stands then?"  
Charlotte laughs. It's a bright, happy sound that makes me feel like I can breathe again.  
***  
Charlotte and Charles leave about an hour later, on Charlotte's whispered promise of a rain check and a wink. If my boys catch it they don't say anything. Daniel isn't picking up his phone and they treat me like I'm glass. Sharp yet fragile. I try not to to pay it much heed. Besides, their fear of me means I get to dictate the sleeping arrangements. The temperature has only ebbed slightly since high noon but that night me and my boys still fall asleep holding each other tightly. Today four nearly returned to three. Tonight we sleep as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! The transition out of summer into online classes just been hitting especially hard for me :( (not to mention Williams dropping out of f1 as a whole)))
> 
> On the bright side this update is one of the longest I've written in a while at almost 5k words :)
> 
> Quick question: at the Beginning of the story I included a lot of switch between pov styles. However as the story has gone on I've used less and less third person as the story has gotten less impersonal. I guess what I'm asking is how do y'all feel about that? Do you really miss the duality or don't mind it and I'm just stressing?
> 
> Quick note: I finally got a beta reader so fingers crossed for less spelling mistakes. Thank you to all of you who still read this semi in edited. 
> 
> Okie that's it!  
> I love you all, thank you for reading, and have a lovely day!!


	17. Tips And Tricks From A Sinking Ship

I wake to the smell of coffee and to brown eyes staring back at me. I have to blink a couple times to register Lando being the only one still in bed with me and Daniel, crouching before me at the lip of the bed.

"Daniel?" I ask quietly, not entirely sure if I am in fact awake or not. A soft expression comes over his face though, he reaches out and runs a hand through my hair, I bend into the touch.

"Hey" He whispers. For a moment we stay still like that, greeting each other like that of the first sunshine in the morning. I bask in his presence. I wish he had been here last night.

I pull away so I can stretch, trying my best not to disturb Lando's sleeping form as I contort on the far side of the bed. My body feels like lead and I grimace. With a clearer head then the day before I can acknowledge that I probably need to let the team physician check me out more thoroughly. 

Daniel has a concerned look on his face and it only gets worse when I stand and almost teeter over on tingling legs. He grabs and steadies me before I can list too far to the side. I hold on to him, thankful. I want to talk to him. I  _ need _ to talk to him. I want to know where he's been. But I also just want to hold him. He's solid under my hands when I feel so sore and, frankly, off. But first, I need a shower. A real one. Nightmares that I can't remember but still leave me feeling tired and defeated had me awake late last night. Now the first thing on my mind is a shower. A real one this time.

When I whisper as much to Daniel, still weary of a sleeping Lando, a concerned look crosses his face. Alex or George must have told him about last night. Traitors.

I start to pull away and his arms tense.

"Daniel." I start.

"Wait, just, lemme shower with you?" He asks, giving me a pleading smile. I open my mouth to protest but he pulls me a little closer, concern edging into his usually cheery features. "Please." He whispers.

I sign. "Fine."

I pull away. But I take his hand and lead him into the bathroom. 

***

Under the hot stream, naked and in his arms, yesterday's tears come again. I hadn't wanted to cry in front of him. Claire's words from the first day we ever met still replaying in my mind. Not to mention I feel like a child, I don't even really know what they're from this time. 

"I'm sorry" I whisper, my face in my hands, pressed slick up against his front. 

One of his hands, low on my back, slides up my wet skin till he can apply slight pressure at the back on my neck, forcing me to look up at him. Only then does he say, "Do not apologize. You have nothing to apologize for." We stare at each other for a long moment. Then I nod and his hands resettle and I rest my head back on his chest. We stand like that for a while longer, but this time, he pulls me out before the water can go cold.

***

We find my boys on the terrace and join them for breakfast. They've been sitting out here for a while now and they're warm to the touch. I'm grateful for Daniel's cool skin under mine, a contrast to the already warming day.

"So, what the plan, Stan?" I ask George.

"Claire wants us at head quarters till next Tuesday now. We have flights scheduled at 8 tonight." I groan. Pivoting in his lap, I turn so I can face Daniel, taking his face in my slightly syrup-sticky hands. He grimaces at me but doesn't bother to try to pull away. 

"Sorry." I tell him quietly. I'm not apologizing for my hands though. We'd planned to spend this upcoming off week with each other too, as well as last week. But it rapidly seems like I won't be seeing him again until the race in France. And I only have myself to blame.

***

London is as rainy and gloomy as I feel in the week after collision. Lando and Alex come by George's flat a couple times but mostly we're all too busy to see each other. Or it might just be because i'm too busy to see them. I spend my time reading through the less then kind comments under my Instagram post following Canada or obsessively playing on the simulator till one of them, usually George, comes and and has to unplug it to get me to come get food. I don't tell him how grateful I am to him enough. 

On Tuesday night, the day before we're to fly out to France, Alex and Lando return. I cook more comfort food from my days in the sun with my aunt. In return Lando, George, and Alex never shut up. So I don't think about Monte Carlo, or Montreal, or Le Castellet. Or at least, I do my best not to.

***

The next night I find myself in a similar tableau. This time in France, just north of the French Riviera, and with the addition of four to our little group. Charles and Charlotte are held up in the kitchen, helping me finish dinner while my boys and Pierre watch on with wrapped attention as Caterina shows them all how it's done on X box. I have no idea what they're playing but judging from the near constant clamor coming from the other room, i'm sure it's something exciting. 

"I can even hear them from out here." Charles remarks with humor and something like new-found fondness in his voice as he helps me set the table in the backyard of the Air Bnb. 

"Don't say that" I groan. "They're going to get us a noise complaint."

He laughs. "We're in the suburbs of France. There's no one to complain about us!"

I shrug. "We'll see, I swear Lando's giggle becomes super sonic when he's drunk." Charles bursts out laughing. "Like a dying hyena!" he agrees as he chortles. I can't help but laugh a little too. I'm right of course, his giggle does go up about 3 octaves when he's drunk.

"You're right, as a concerned passersby I would most definitely call animal protective services." 

"Fuck, for real!" I laugh. The silence threatens momentarily. But then he asks, "So if you don't mind me asking, what team are you going to next year?" I look up at him, startled.

"I'm not switching teams next year." Of course I wouldn't tell this to Claire, I think the not knowing keeps her working a little harder then normal. But even if I could tolerate being at another team, Williams is the one I want to bring a trophy home to. 

Charles is looking at me like I've grown a second head from across the table. He holds a fork inches above it's setting on the table, task forgotten.

"Why would you do that?!" He questions, shock and judgement in his voice. I bristle.

"Because I believe I can take Williams back to it's glory days. Because I want to." I tell him. He's still looking at me like I'm crazy.

"You want to waste your time slowly climbing with a shit team instead of just transferring to a better team with a better car? Why??? The last two races aside, if you keep doing well you might even be competitive enough to score a seat in the  _ top three _ " He tells me encouragingly. "Why waste years with Williams when you could be in a championship car next year?" He asks me with a knowing, indulgent smile. He thinks he has an argument I can't deny. But it's my turn to smile to myself. 

"These last two races  _ included _ ," I tell him."I have had one of the most successful and promising rookie seasons in history. And with new sponsorship i'm only going to get faster. Look at the standings right now. Williams might of started from the bottom. And that may mean that me and George can only carry them so far this year. But by next year," I tell him, staring into his eyes, zero doubt in my voice. "Well the top three are gonna have to watch their backs."

As we walk back into the house Charles keeps looking at me as if he's only now seeing me for the first time.

***

About an hour later I'm back in the yard behind the house. This time though, everyone is outside and judging by the shrieking and splashing coming from the far side of the yard, someone has gone into the pool. I stay in the safety of the well-lit patio table, Pierre by my side.

"So," he starts eventually, "I hear you're in for the long game at Williams."

I temper my anger behind a smile. And who says boys don't gossip? But I lean towards him over the table. "Yeah, got any tips?" I ask.

Pierre's story is one that is well known, his trials and tribulations with Red Bull, with being demoted half way through the 2019 season only to out perform Alex from his AlphaTauri seat the following year. Everyone had expected him to reclaim his seat with Red Bull. Instead he shocked the world and joined Alfa Romeo, along side Kimi. Switching to a team that already hasn't been doing well the year new regulations go in to place is always a gamble. For Pierre, it was a gamble that paid off. Last year he won two races. This year he still has time. Just like me. Just like Alex, who has weathered the impossible storm that is being Max Verstappen's teammate and who has emerged on the other side, having carved out his own seat at Red Bull, a place he deserves more and more with every passing year.

Pierre leans back. A smile on his face. "Yes actually." There's light in his eyes and a contentedness that I haven't had the pleasure of seeing yet. This is the first time we've formally talked and I get the sense he's been waiting for me to ask him this exact question for quite some time. It's the first time him and Charles have come without pestering from my boys. I wonder now if I was the reason for it, at least for the man in front of me. I give him my full attention.

"Rules for Being the #1 driver of a sinking ship!" he starts out grandly. I groan at his wording. He winks in the face of my annoyance and continues.

"One, no social media!" He grabs my phone which has been sitting on the table, my Instagram page open. I try to grab it back but he's not having it. "This is really a rule for all drivers but you clearly need it." When it's returned to me I'm on the sign up page of Instagram. I look up and glare at him, he ignores it. "The only person that should have that log in is the Williams photographer and your PR agent. If u want Instagram you can make a private one. But don't subject yourself to the comments on that public account. Trust me when I say there's absolutely no use in that."

I'm still glaring at him but he doesn't even falter, just continues, "Two, always, always do press! Even if you've just had a crash. Especially if you've just crashed! If you can walk you can talk. The fans want to see your reaction to know how to feel themselves. Plus, it's a time to humanize yourself. Let the audience see that you are your own person with your own humor and opinion of this sport. Not just a cog in the machine." I open my mouth to defend myself but he shushes me. Actually shushes me. "No comments or questions till the end of the lecture. Three! No beefing with other drivers. Friendly competition, yes, by all means. But don't allow real animosity between you or any of the drivers on the grid. If you have a problem, go to the driver directly and talk it out. Figure. It. Out. Real anger means reckless driving and that's how we loose people in this sport. Got it?" I nod obediently.

"Good. Now finally, though I don't think you really need to be told this, don't be afraid to follow your gut when racing. Of course listen to your team. Always take what they have to say into account. But the thing that separates great drivers from the best drivers is the ability to think for themselves. Team radio is a great thing, but it can also be a handicap. No one else is in that car. You are the only one. So trust the skill that got you here in the first place. All you can do is trust it can take you to the top."

"Can I speak now?" I ask when he's finally done. He hesitates for a second, as if mulling it over, then nods.

"Okay,  _ Thank you _ ." I tell him, with all the sincerity I feel in that moment. "You're one of the first drivers to actually give me advice. So thank you."

For a second he stares at me with surprise. Then a smile splits his face. Caterina approaches and wraps herself happily around him, but not before he tells me. "You're welcome, Avalon."

***

I don't get a chance to reply much after that as upon Caterina's arrival, George is there too, pulling me up in his wet arms before I can even think to fight him off. "George no! I will slash your tires- George!!!" But it's too late. The water is cold when we break the surface. Ice when I come up for air. The bastard. I can hear delighted laughing all around me. At me. He will die.

***

That night Charles and Charlotte and Pierre and Caterina all crash at our house. We'd rented a house with four bedrooms knowing full well that only one would be used so there's plenty room for them. No one questions it when me and my boys bid the respective couples a good night, then retire to our own room. That night, long after my boys have fallen asleep and I've returned from the garage, George's tires left to deflate, I slip back into bed. In the morning me and the rest of the men in this house will go to work, building hype and practicing for the race this weekend. For now, the next generation of Formula One sleeps under the same roof, united in their belief in a small redhead and her promise of a new era for Formula One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves!
> 
> Just want to thank you again for sticking with me even as my updating has slowed down. I'm still writing this fic, don't worry! I'm just slow... Sorry
> 
> Have a good day ❤


	18. Ghosts of the Paddock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is a long update! I'd recommend looking at the end of chapter notes for news!

The heat seems to of chased us half way around the world. France is at least as hot as Canada and when I wake Wednesday it's with a loud groan.

"Whyyyyyy!" I cry, loud pitched and childish, stretching away from the oppressive heat, receiving half conscious complaints from the full bed in response. Lando blindly shoves at me with his eyes still closed. It's a bad move on his part as he lies on the furthest side of the bed and promptly goes rolling out of sight when I push back. I cover his now wide awake protesting with another peeling whine.

"Whhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy is this happening?? Why am I being punished like this?!"

"Shut up or ill smother you with a pillow." George groans, lying on his tummy, his face tucked tightly into what I can only assume would be the murder weapon. Sounds like a merciful turn of events just about now.

"Whyyyyyyyyyyy!" I cry again, if not just to see if George will actually go through with his threat. He lurches towards me and I can't help but let out a surprised yelp, trying to get away while still stuck in the thin sheets. The door to our bedroom opens just as Lando rises to his feet, only to be taken down by me once again in my half-assed attempt to get away from George.

Charles stands in the doorway looking like he regrets ever knowing us in the first place.

"What are yo- you know what, never mind. We made breakfast. It's ready." Then he's gone just as quick as he came. He can barely close the door fast enough. The second he's gone I detangle myself from Lando on the floor, both of us hastily getting to our feet. George eyes us both. 

"Well that was embarrassing for you." I flip him off before turning on my heel and leaving them for the master bathroom. Locking the door behind me knowing full well that otherwise they will invite themselves in. (Plus an added barrier when George's loud shout rips through the house. I'll probably end up having to pay for those tires but it's still definitely worth it. He really shouldn't of thrown me in the pool.)

***

With George's car out of commission the eight of us have to carpool to the track around noon. Cameras flash as six of the twenty drivers on the grid arrive together, jostling, laughing, and talking amongst one another. They draw eyes from all those in the paddock. Not just because of their names or status in this small world. But also because of who they  _ are _ . The rising children of formula one. The next generation, and the first daughter of the sport. She has united them behind her, in her pursuit of this life, she's strung them all together under a common thread. One that is clear to even the most casual of passerby. 

For these kids, back together again, radiate an untempered, unabashed sort of love for one another and their sport. It is clear that they will continue to do so long after the lights have gone out and the garages have closed. It is who they are. It is who they will always be.

***

Once at the track, George and I spend hours hopping from publication to the next, answering the same question after question, never without a smile. But with George by my side time doesn't seem to pass by all that slowly. Occasionally the interview requires me and George to show off our excellent team spirit. These are my favorite. To keep things interesting, I make a point to try to make George break concentration laughing at least once each interview. Bonus points if he's just taken a sip of water and has to take a break to recover from choking. We're separated not long after that. 

***

The majority of the week is spent like most leading up to a race, much like that of Wednesday's activities, doing press and pre-race reconnaissance. However, unlike any of the races prior, when I arrive home at the end of a long day, it is never just my boys who await me. From the first night in France, and for every night after it, Charles, Caterina, Pierre, and Charlotte end up staying the night. It is never discussed. It is never questioned. But I think for my boys, for these men who all grew up alone, in faceless hotel rooms down the hall from one another, it goes without saying, they sleep better under one roof, in this house, together.

I have no complaints. There is never a moment in the house that is silent. Never one that is dull. Never enough time to think about a certain someone with brown curls and soft laugh lines and who won't be arriving till late Friday night.

***

Daniel's red eye touches down in France in the early AMs on Saturday. I offer to pick him up but he tells me that he'll handle it and that we'll see each other at qualifying. I'm not about to complain that I won't be having to wake up in the dark. Even if I miss his stupid face.

***

In the end, it's him who finds me.

"Stop it" I tell George just as he's thrown another piece of his cereal into my bowl. I'm this close to splashing him with milk, I swear. 

"But the marshmallows are gross" he whines, reaching for another phosphorescent piece of puffed sugar with his spoon. I lay my hands flat over the bowl protectively. 

"You should of thought about that before you choose lucky charms." George stops then, looking up at me with an expression that can only be read as "really Avalon??" Before turning his judgemental gaze on Lando who immediately raises his hands in defense.

"Hey you said you wanted cereal. It's not my fault food at the track sucks." While i'm listening to Lando, George manages to flick another marshmallow into my bowl. I glare at him. 

"I know where you live."

"Right back at ya Ava"

I'm about to respond when someone wraps their arms around me from behind. I jerk in surprise so hard I almost flip my bowl over. But i'd know that voice anywhere when he quickly speaks words of warning and I relax, even as my boys chortal. "Your face!" Lando wheezes. Daniel whispers apologies in my ear from where he stands behind my high stool but honestly, i'm really not complaining.

His breath is hot on my neck and the shell of my ear. He's holding me from behind and I can feel his chest expand and deflate as he whispers. When he's done and met with silence, Lando still quietly giggling into his bowl, Daniel presses a soft kiss to the nape of my neck and I can't help but melt into it. I haven't seen him since we were cutting our losses and fleeing the track in Canada. 

I've missed his hands where they rest on my stomach, folded under my own hands. I've missed him like this, behind me, holding me up. I turn in the spin stool, coming face to face with tired eyes but the same happy smile as always. I bring my hands to his face so I can feel his stubble against my hands, so I can hold that joy in my hands, so I can wipe away all the worry marring his features. So that all that's left is my personal sunshine. He closes his eyes and moves into the touch. In moments like these i'm sure he missed me like I missed him.

"Please get a room." Lando says. He couldn't sound more annoyed/disinterested if he tried.

"Sorry" Daniel chuckles, his eyes sliding to the boys at the table behind me. I huff, Lando may be his teammate but I really feel like I should take priority right now. I tell him as much which only makes him laugh again, which has me glaring as him. But then he's kissing me again and I can't really remember why i'm mad at him in the first place. Not when he's holding me like this. 

Electric, insatiable, and warm skin. 

This time when Lando repeats his sentiment I take the advice.

*** 

Time with him seems to slip away like the ice we place on eachothers skin and all too soon the race is gearing up on the hottest day so far. He's too hot to touch as we zip along the empty road, the sun just rising in the distance, the top pulled back on the convertible. We can't talk to each other, the wind is a red howl that matches the hues of the match box sky. Why, oh why, does he insist on always living so far away from the track?

I reach out, my hand fighting the force of the wind all around us, I succeed and the wind screams in outrage. He's a god like this. I forget it sometimes, when he shows me he can bleed, but when he's like this, golden before the morning, radiant and happy. We have a race in less than eight hours. My stomach is in knots.

But his eyes are on the road and I can see then behind gold aviators. When the road is clear, and I tug his curls particularly demandingly, they slide to me. 

I agree with the wind. 

He's a god like this. He should be untouchable. My hand slides to his neck. He's fire. He's too hot to touch. 

I put my aviators on with the other hand. 

We go faster. If only we could outrun the sun. 

***

Being inside the paddock buildings is, in fact, worse than outside. Both options feel akin to being in a sauna. Having to put the second layer of fireproofs on nearly has me in tears. I'll thank my lucky stars if I don't emerge from this race well-done. I refrain from putting on the last layers of my suit till I absolutely have to. Till the lights are going and the track is quickly clearing and just like that; were off to the races. 

***

That race marks the first red flag of the season and has me wanting to bang my head repeatedly against metal. I blame the Chaos Twins, they take Sebastian and Charles with them and leave a trail of debris in their wake. In the fifteen minutes of break I have, I make a B-line for the pit wall, even if all I really want to do is go somewhere dark and cold and peel off my suit. There will be time for that later. For now I take two stairs at a time onto the platform of the pit wall. Claire greets me with tempered excitement in her eyes. She's seen the stats too. She knows what I'm thinking.

***

Hamilton and Max take each other out five laps out from the finish line. Luckily it is only a yellow flag. It gives me time to ride Daniels ass. So I notice when it suddenly becomes easy. It only takes a lap for me to over take him. I feel bad in the second, but then there's a new battle to be had and all is forgotten. Botas is within overtaking distance but there are already so few opportunities for it on this track. I can already see how this race will end. I can already see Botas above me and Daniel below me. It will be our first podium together. It's not everything, it's not victory, but I still want it so bad. We turn into the last lap and it is radio silence. It's just me and the cars and the track. The screaming of the stands becomes white noise like the roar of the engine behind my head.

Botas locks up. Just for a second before he rights himself. I barely have time to react. I barely have to. I'm sliding up in front of him in the millisecond in which it happens. It's all I need. 

I can't breathe. Not until I've passed the finish line with not a single car in front of me.

Then it's done. I've won.

***

The sound crashes back in like water against rock. It's coming from all sides. Claire is in my ear. Claire is telling me congratulations. I'm just trying not to cry. But it's useless when George practically tackles me. I'm trying to get cool photos too, posing on my car before the first place marker. Then George is there. Grabbing me off the car and spinning around. One of us is squealing, or maybe both. It's all so loud. The scream of the stands, the roar of the last cars coming in, the run in my own ears. But George is there. He is real, solid under my hands, and looking at me like I'm the first snow after a long, hot day in France. I really did it. I really won. 

Daniel laughs when I jump into his arms with my helmet still on, practically head butting him in the process as he staggers, doing his best to stay up right with the momentum. But he's laughing all the same. I let him go only so I can take my helmet off. Only to pull him back to me. The kiss is all teeth, we're both smiling too much to really do it justice. But I don't care. I wrap my arms around him again, helmet discarded, pulling him close. It's too hot to do this. I don't care.

***

I'm late to the podium. I go around the entire Williams paddock. It's 100 degrees, someone tells me. I'm still in multiple layers of fire proofs. But I get hugs from each and every one of my teammates.

***

It's only later that I realize Daniel didn't get onto the podium. Stroll taking his place next to me makes me want to cry again. Not from joy this time though. It shouldn't be him. 

But it's not and I do my best to put on a smile as the post-race podium interview starts, even as the periodic flashes of camers burn my retinas, so much so that I embarrassingly have to ask for my first question to be repeated. The man laughs before repeating the question, "how does it feel? To break a glass ceiling." I want to ask him to repeat the question. "Honestly?" I say, it coming out breathy, still overwhelmed by the implications in that question. "Feels like back pain." A smattering of laughter. "No, but to be serious, im very proud of this moment. To be honest it hasn't fully hit me, I don't think. But I can remember what it was to be a little girl growing up on F1. I can't even imagine what it would've meant to me to see a woman winning a race. I said it before but ill say it again, this win wasn't just me, it was the whole Williams team. We've been working really hard this year and I wouldn't be here without them. But I also want to thank my fans. This win was for every little girl out there dreaming of racing one day. It wasn't easy, but I got here, and so can you."

I feel drunk with every passing minute, as the high from the win is replaced with the fatigue I feel after racing for nearly two and a half hours. I'm not even quite sure what I've just said. I'll thank my fans better later. For now the man who's asked the question simply nods, clearly unimpressed, and moves onto a question for Stroll. I sit back and try to focus on keeping my knee from bouncing. I only have to get through this one interview. Then my boys and I can get out of here. I don't know how I want to celebrate yet, I just know I want them by my side and as much distance between me and this room full of press as possible. I feel like if I move a finger wrong they'll catch it. The next time it's one of my questions, it has nothing to do with my win. On the contrary, most of the questions seem to be aimed at examining the wreckage to come out of the day. I grit my teeth against the clock as i'm asked yet another question about who I think would've won if so many drivers hadn't crashed out. As the final minutes tick down, the more hostile of the press make themselves known. Botas is asked "Was it embarrassing to have a woman beat you?" A whisper breaks out when the question is asked but no one stands in protest against the obviously sexist rehoritic. My cheeks turn pink as the man beside me clears his throat. "I made a mistake coming into the last lap. If not for that I would've won. I'm embarrassed over that." I'm relieved when the man sits down but I shouldn't be. The next question is from a different publication but just as scathing. "Avalon, given what Botas just said, are you embarrassed?" My palms are sweating as I sit up. "Now why would I be embarrassed?" I ask. I've always wanted to be seated here, in the winners chair. Right about now though, well I think i'd rather be anywhere else as the reporter elaborates. "Well it's like Valteri said, you won not because of merit, but because you got lucky. I know you said this race was for all the little girls out there but is that really the message you want to be sending? That they can only win when a man allows them? Do you really think that's what a role model should be saying?" I feel I've been punched in the gut. Everyone in the room is silent and waiting, waiting for my answer. But I have no idea how i'm supposed to respond to that. I have no idea how no one objects to this question. "Are you serious?" I ask. I can feel my cheeks, red hot in the face of the flashing cameras. The man just smiles. "It's a question Avalon. We are at a press conference. Please answer the question." I splutter, looking out into the crowd for a familiar face. But they all stare back with cameras or mics at the ready. Silent spectators to the slaughter. They want a show? Fine. I'll give them a show.

"I mean no offense when I say this, Botas is a driver who's ability most us would kill for. But if you think that him making a mistake means that I won on luck, you're wrong. A better driver wouldn't of fumbled that turn. But he did and I reacted appropriately. I won because I deserve it. Don't disrespect me like that, don't try to write this achievement off. We all know what this means for this sport, one with such a blatant lack of diversity. You only embarrass yourself when you continue to enforce sexist stereotypes in this environment. It's 2023, woman are in Formula One and winning. Get over yourself." I fire back, breathing hard. Where is Claire? The man just smiles antagonizingly. 

"Please do try to keep calm Avalon. It was a question. A simple yes or no would've sufficed."

I open my mouth to argue but they beat me to it, decidedly stopping me in my tracks.

"Stroll. You know a lot about getting a seat out of luck versus merit. What do  _ you _ think about Mimic's win today?" But Stroll doesn't answer the question. Or if he does, I don't hear it. I'm too busy standing up and walking out of the room.

***

Someone grabs my arm just as i'm making my get-away in the hall outside the conference room. I jerk away, spinning on my heel and glaring at the perpetrator. 

Lewis Hamilton holds his hands up in defense, his eyes apologetic. I don't understand.

"What do you want?" I bite out. In any other circumstance I would probably be bowing down to this God I watched flourish as I grew up. Now all I see is one more thing standing between me and celebrating with my boys.

"You can't leave now!" He tells me, in an urgent, tense, almost pleading tone. "If you walk out you're letting them win. Go back and sit up there and show them that they're words don't phase you. That they can't touch you. If you walk away now you're just proving to them that you don't belong here." Hamilton's body is already angled slightly, as if just waiting to lead me back into the slaughter. But i'm not going back. I would've thought that out of all the drivers on the grid, he would be the one to defend me in these circumstances. 

I guess I was wrong. 

"Going back in there to sit still and look pretty is the opposite of winning. If you can't see that then you're not the person I thought you were. You're not the man I looked up to as a child. Now, if you'll excuse me, i'm done being doubted, I'm going to go celebrate my win." 

I leave him in the too-bright hall, an expression of desperation, and maybe even regret, marring that face I know so well.

***

I find my boys in George's dressing room. They're all back in their regular clothes and huddled close. I may of won today, but for most of my family, this race will go down with the countless others in the category "if only i'd done this... Maybe things would've been different." Needless to say, they all look like they could use a drink. They're lucky I could use one too. 

I don't make my presence known till after I've slipped into my adjacent room and changed into my normal clothes. Then I lean against the door frame, jangling neon keys.

"Come on, boys. We're getting out of here." They don't need to be told twice. 

***

We go somewhere where we won't be bothered. Where the thrumming beat and the flashing light and the undulating mass on the dance floor grants a slick, slippery type of anonymity to all who pass through. Soon enough Cate and Charlotte join us too, their men not far behind. The table is packed when I return to it. Full of the people who I've been sharing a house with. We're anywhere but there at the moment. And yet nearing the table feels akin to coming home.

Charles raises a glass towards me. "To Ava!" He declares. "To a rookie season to be jealous over. To many more seasons to come!" The table cheers. They each throw back a drink in my honor. So I pour one to them. To racing, to Claire, to Daniel, and to these young immortals, who at some point, through silent agreement, have become family. After all, in my experience, the best of family is also that which is found.

***

The second I arrive back at the air bnb, closing the door behind me, I sink into the closest chair, unlacing and pulling off my heels. I rub my aching feet in my hand as I check my phone. A text from Daniel a couple minutes ago reads, "Just ate, omw over soon." 

With that I rise to my feet and make a B-line for the bathroom, confident I have enough time to shower if he's only leaving now. Still, I rush, and am scrunching my hair with a towel and checking the time on my phone only minutes later. I pause then though.

I feel disappointment in the pit of my stomach with his first text.

"Sorry"

It reads, followed by, "Can't come over tonight. Something came up. So proud of you Babe. Will make it up to you tomorrow."

I stop bothering with my hair after that. I tell myself i'm glad I don't have to do any more social interactions today and can finally reflect over my own triumph as I pull on a pair of Lando's discarded McLaren sweats. Their unfairly soft and and wear high waisted on me, just how I like. 

I'm settling in front of the tv in the master bedroom just as a chime rings throughout the house. I pause for a moment, then untangle myself from the bed and head for the front door, already grumbling about how many times I've reminded my boys to leave the house with their own set of keys.

"Ya know we put a key in the back yard for moments just like- oh, hello." I freeze with the door opened only mid way. My mind seems to short circuit. I can think of exactly zero reasons for this man to be here, standing on my doorstep, holding a bottle of champagne, notably smaller than the one from earlier today, and saying "Avalon, can I come in?"

Mute, I pull the door open, allowing Lewis Hamilton to step inside.

***

He looks good on the lawn chair. All tattooed muscle and practiced ease. The sun has long since set but the garden lamps have switched on and it gives the yard an almost ethereal vibe, the pool gently lapping at concrete, tall, green grass stretching into the darkest part of the large yard. He looks like a statute of old. Like he was here long before I ever got to this place, like he will be here long after i'm gone.

When I hand him the solo cups he raises his perfectly manicured eyebrows at me but takes them all the same. Steady hands pour pale amber liquid into plastic. I pull loose thread from the McLaren logo, aware of the ever present heat and slide of my own skin. Something like cicadas sound off somewhere in the night. The champagne is warm bubbles traveling from my tongue to my stomach, adding to the warmth within me. When Lewis finally speaks, he says it like a prayer, eyes to the sky, hands over chest.

"When I was fourteen I fell in love with a boy with hair like yours. Red and wild. You remind me a little of him, the way you drive. Like you've got a fire behind you and there's nowhere to go but straight ahead, no slowing down." He pauses to sip from his cup, then reaches for the bottle. "Tell me Ava, do you believe in ghosts?"

Not sure how to respond, I don't at first. Then, I tell him a truth. "Yes." When he doesn't offer anything else up I take a risk, I push. "Was he like us? A driver I mean?" I ask into the silence. The silence laughs.

"He could drive, yes. It's how we met in fact. I can still remember how the track smelled like rain and he smelled like smoke. But he wasn't like us. He was a child of poetry and music and education." Lewis turns to look at me for the first time since I've taken up purchase beside him. "He was going to change the world." He tells me, his eyes vast lakes, high tide and threatening the carefully crafted farm lands below. When the tear slips free I reach out and wipe it away. He sighs into the night, he let's me.

"I was the third child my parents had. They had only ever wanted two. So my aunt raised me for most of my life. Her husband had died young and left her with nearly as much money as my parents have from essentially owning a law firm. I spent my childhood running around the world with a mad woman." I smile to myself, memories of warm arms and a high, keening laugh playing in my mind's eye. "When I was four I asked my aunt if I had to be a boy to be like the men we watched in fast cars on early Sunday mornings. She simply told me "no". The next day she took me to a karting track. I don't remember it, but she always used to tell the story of how she had to bribe me to leave." 

Lewis's lips curve just slightly beneath closed eyes. "Sounds familiar."

"Yeah. She loved it though. She was always my biggest fan."

Teeth flash when he smiles this time. "He used to tell me I could be anything, do anything. He always believed in me when I didn't even believe in myself. I'd never seen a man like me behind the wheel of a Formula Car. I was sure that out of the two of us, he would be the one to make it far. We were just two little black boys holding on to dreams like they were our future."

There is a long silence before Lewis finishes. "He died the summer after his sophomore year of college. He'd gone home to visit his mom and we talked that night. Then he went to sleep and never woke up. The doctors said it was an aneurysm. He died at home, twenty years old and in his childhood bed." This time I let the tears roll, my own cheeks wet, even as I smile, the memories all bitter sweet.

"When I was 13 I got into a karting accident. My parents were furious. They said a lot of things that they shouldn't of, that they had no right to. But they did, and she left. The next time I saw her was nearly a year later, at her funeral. She'd been found floating in a public pool. Only later did I find out that she hadn't been taking her meds for nearly as long." People told me that time lessens the pain. I'm still wondering exactly how much time is supposed to of passed. It feels like a lifetime ago, when I raced with my aunt cheering me on. For years I've been running. Trying everything I can to forget the feel of that love. But if ghosts weren't real I wouldn't be here, twenty and alive, on fire, and with a new trophy in my bedroom to prove it. 

Lewis sits up then, his cup empty, his eyes full. "I owe you an apology. I've spent year's running from that 4am call. He's long dead and gone but i'm still trying to make him proud. For year's I've been winning this game. I was so terrified of not being everything he thought I could be that I think I forgot why we both wanted this. But I see that haunted look in your face when the cameras arent watching. I saw it in your face on your first podium. I should've come to you then. But I didn't, I was a coward. I wanted to pretend like you weren't real, like i'm not the only one on this grid fighting just for the very right to be here." He sighs. 

"But that's not fair. I've been fighting just to be seen as deserving of my seat for so long that I'd forgotten how to fight for others." We're sitting so close that I can see the wet glaze in his eyes. I close my own when he lifts his hand between us, callused skin high on my cheek bones as he brushes the tears away.

"But i'm here now. Just because  _ I did _ doesn't mean  _ you should _ . I promise Avalon, you'll never have to fight alone again."

***

By the time I leave Lewis in the last uninhabited bedroom we're both long sober. Still, I take his keys. The city is about an hours drive out. He may as well stay the night. Better to be safe than sorry. At this hour it's a wonder no one else is back yet. I wish they were. I wish getting in that big bed alone didn't remind me that I should be with Daniel anyway. I left them, after all, for him. For the promise of finally curling up against his warm body in this house somewhere in France. Where a tentative family has formed, where dreams finally came true.

Today I made history. I broke the glass ceiling. I became the first woman to ever win a Formula One race. It doesn't matter what that reporter said. Or what any press says. 

Today I am victorious, hell, even Lewis Fucking Hamilton knows it. I shouldn't be celebrating like this. Forget the man who isn't here.

I am out of my bed and patting down the hall before my spiraling mind can catch up to me. The lights are off in Lewis's bedroom but his phone illuminates his face as he stares down at it. He puts it down as I come in though.

"Ava?- are you okay?" He asks, concern clear in his voice, sheets falling to reveal more inked skin as he sits up. I don't answer him. I don't stop.

"What are you- Ava!" I'm in his lap. In the moonlight I can only make out the outline of his features. I can't tell what he's thinking. But his hands are on my hips, grip tight enough to hurt, forcing me to still.

So I bring my hands up to his face instead, bow my head so that our foreheads touch. I take a breath. He doesn't move.

"Please." I whisper. "Lewis. Please."

His grip on my hips is still tight as a vice, holding them in suspension, inches from his bare stomach. It ripples as he takes a shuddering breath. 

Then i'm being flipped. I'm on my back and he's on top and his lips are heat against skull. He kisses me like i'm a feast that he's been teased with since morning. He kisses me like he holds me. All brute force and taking what he will. All I can do is wrap my legs around him and hold on. I clutch at his back, feeling muscles ripple as he moves his hands on me. He holds my face first. But then they're around my neck, then lower, caressing my sides, taking my breasts in his hand. He takes a nipple in warm fingers, rolls. I can't help but moan, breaking away from our feverish kiss and arching up against him. He stays close, watching my face as his other hand slides further down, between my legs. I can already feel heat pooling where his fingers travel.

He stops then. A hand flat against my navel, the other across my neck. I stop too, looking up into his face. His eyes are searching. For what, I do not know.

"Tell me." He whispers.

"Tell you what." I whisper back. I can feel his breath on my lips.

"Tell me that this is what you want." Ah. I smile. Then I roll my hips.

He takes a shuddering breath. I stick my hand down his pants and take ahold of him. His eyes are headlights in the dark. Bright with shock. He's holding my hips down but I lift my head off the bed and press my lips to his. He doesn't hesitate after that.

Not until im gasping and ready. When he pulls his fingers out i'm left aching and empty. His hot length is red and swollen between my fingers, but I want it between my legs, filling me up, hitting that spot that makes my toes curl and my back arch. But instead he pulls away. I cry at the loss.

"I'm right here." He says, quickly, dipping down so he can slide an arm under my back, holding me against him as he sits up with me in his lap again. We sit like that for some immeasurable amount of time, hands searching, mouths devouring. But this time, when he leans back, there's no headboard and he lies flat, his legs too stretching out behind me. I'm sitting stark naked on his stomach. I can feel it between my legs when his muscles shift under me. I shake at how turned on I am. I think I might explode. Then I most certainly do when Lewis opens his mouth. 

"You want it so bad Ava, you take it. Ride me." I practically come right there untouched, lightly sliding myself against his stomach. He puts his hands behind his head like he's unaffected by it all. But I can feel him shuddering beneath me. I can see it when, just for a second, he squeezes his eyes shut,  _ tight _ . 

When I scoot down just a little further and thrust against him again, he clenches hard, even letting out a strangled sound as I rub myself up and down on his dick, hands flat across his chest, holding myself up. 

His hands are again a vice on my hips. "If you keep doing that, i'm not gonna last." 

I raise my eyes at him. He opens his mouth but chokes when I roll my hips against him again. His fingers are gonna leave bruises but I can't bring myself to be mad about it. There's a box of condoms in all the bedrooms thanks to Lando and I make a mental note to make that boy his favorite breakfast as I tear open the package. Lewis's hiss as I roll it on is music to my ears. The sounds he makes when I take him inside me in one smooth motion is even better.

***

It doesn't take either of us long, both tense and eager for the high found in each other after the grueling day. When it's done he rolls away from me, standing in an unfairly put together fashion so soon after our activities. He disappears into the connecting bathroom momentarily, returning with a wet cloth. He helps me wash us, maneuvering my weak body till i'm damp but clean. Then he disappears again, this time turning the light off when he returns, startling to my senses. 

"Do you want me to go?" I ask, doing my best to sit up through the post-sex haze. I don't want to. Not at all. But with the adrenaline leaving my body I can see the brashness of my actions. I can understand if he wants me out of his bed. (Even if it's technically more mine than his) Surely my boys will be home soon and I can finally sleep.

But Lewis just chuckles as he makes his way towards the bed in the dark, the moonlight his only guide. "Don't be silly. If there's one thing I've heard about you through the paddock, it's your affinity for a cuddle buddy." He slips back onto the bed. "Relax Avalon. I'm right here." He whispers as he pulls me close, his warm breath in my ear making me shiver. He is heat and comfort and tight arms wrapped around me. In his embrace, I don't struggle to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves!
> 
> Ya girls back at it again with another hella long chapter. I hope y'all liked it :) 
> 
> I'm not quite sure when ill be able to upload next with my current academic work load so I hope the length of this chapter can somewhat make up for it!
> 
> Also IMPORTANT: I've been pretty conflicted this weekend while thinking of what the next step in this fic is. I'd had big plans for Max in the next couple of chapters but frankly, in light of his real life behavior, im not sure if I still want to do that. I'm really conflicted as I feel that Ava and Max have a lot in common. However, in this fic, where im not trying to gloss over issues like racism, ableism, and sexism in the sport, I wonder if Including Max "it's not my problem" Verstappen is really what I want to do. 
> 
> So yeah, idk, just thought I'd let ya know where my heads at
> 
> Anyway have a lovely day!!!!
> 
> PS. I SAW THIS VIDEO RIGHT AFTER I FINISHED WITH THE FIRST DRAFT OF THIS CHAPTER AND IT HAD ME SCREAMING:  
> https://fandom-functional.tumblr.com/post/632877684954955776


	19. These Beds We Made

Lewis's stirring wakes me just before dawn. He's got an early flight and is already running late. Silently, we scuffle around the house, making sure he's gotten all his belongings. He leaves with a kiss on the cheek and a whispered 'goodbye', his car's roar to life ripping through the quiet morning, the birds first song of the day interrupted. 

For a second I allow myself a moment. I lean against the doorway, watching the sun rise where Lewis's car turned out of sight. I touch my cheek gently, feeling where his warm lips had pressed to my skin. 

Then I close the door. I turn the lock and go back into the kitchen lined with floor to ceiling windows. As the sun rises beyond the glass, I get started on breakfast. When making food for eight people, it's best to get a head start.

Lando is the first up, padding into the kitchen in boxers and rubbing his eyes. He drops down into one of the counter stools. 

"You look like shit." I tell him.

He shushes me.  _ Rude _ . And to think, I'm making him his favorite.

"Where were y'all last night anyway? When did you get in?" He looks up at me with a pained expression.

"I don't know. It's a blur. We went to a bar. Then another. And then... I think another?" He puts his head back down. I shake him till he swats at me. 

"What?!" He demands. Grumpy Lando it is then. 

"No need to be sassy sir. I just want to know how you all got back here? Who drove? They were sober right?" I demand back. 

His eyes narrow. "Stop pointing the spatula at me like that. You look like my mom."

I gasp. "Rude!" But I straighten, quickly focusing on using the spatula on the food at hand. "Answer the question." He groans and rubs his eyes viciously.

"Cate drove. She didn't drink."

"See that wasn't so hard."

"Hold up. Are those my sweats?"

"Nope!" I put a plate of food before him and spin on my heel, bolting for my bedroom. The last of the cooking food has been removed from heat and all of a sudden, I'm just itching for a shower.

***

When I return to the kitchen most everyone is awake, to varying levels of consciousness, albeit. Only Cate and Charlotte have dared to brave the bright outdoors yet and I take up purchase around the wooden table beside them, my plate as full as my mind. I can barely believe what happened last night. It feels, even now, like that of a fever dream. Murky and far away. 

"Ava, why didn't Daniel stay for breakfast?"

"What?" I ask when I hear my name, startled out of my day dreaming. Charlotte repeats the question but I'm still confused. Daniel?

"Umm. Daniel didn't stay for breakfast because he wasn't here....?" I say slow, drawing it out like a question. I don't understand. The two girls exchange just as puzzled looks.

"What are you talking about? His car was here when we got in last night." Oh. I twist in my chair, checking to make sure the boys are all still passed out somewhere within the safety of the cool house- it's not that I don't trust them, it's that I am not awake enough for the teasing that will surely follow. When the coast is indeed clear, I turn back, picking up my food with as much nonchalance as I can feign and tell the two girls, "That wasn't Daniel's car. It was Lewis's."

I pretend not to notice their slack-jawed shocked expressions. And they haven't even heard the half of it. 

"What the fuck?" Is all Charlotte says. Cate just nods, still staring at me like I've grown a second head.

"Yeah. He wanted to talk. With it being my first win and all. Well he just wanted to say congratulations."

Cate let's out a low whistle. "At 2am huh?"

"Damn." Charlotte says, echoing the sentiment. I smile into my food. It's gone at her next words though, "Sorry about Daniel though. Sucks he wasn't there for you. If he was my man and he stood me up after what you achieved yesterday...." Cate lets out another low whistle.

"I mean it worked out in the end right?" Charlotte says, giving me an encouraging smile. 

"Right." I agree, returning the smile. I don't know why it all of a sudden feels like a lie.

***

No less than an hour later the whole house knows. 

"Has he texted you yet?" George asks.

"No." I tell him for the tenth time in as many minutes. He stands on the other side of the counter from where I busy myself with cleaning dishes, glares at something behind me. "Have you checked your texts?"

"Yes."

"Recently?" 

"Yes." 

"Check again." 

"George...." Lando says from behind us, concern in his tone. George ignores him.

"You should go over there. See what the fuck he's up too."

"Woah, woah, woah." More of our family voices their disagreement this time. Again it is ignored.

"Now why would I do that?"

"Ava, he's always standing you up. It's unacceptable, especially for last night. He left you to celebrate alone! After what you did yesterday! After what you accomplished? That sounds like some bullshit. Go over there and talk to him about it. I know you want more commitment from him, go tell him!"

"Ava..." Lando says, coming up beside George cautiously. "I think George has a point. If you want more commitment, you have to tell him. Maybe wait till you aren't angry though?" 

I look at both my boys. George looks determined, Lando looks anxious. But he has no reason to be. George has got a point. As much as I enjoyed my time with Lewis last night, I came home to be with Daniel. I wanted to be with  _ him _ . But like so many nights before, it didn't happen. 

I'm not angry. I'm just disappointed. And I don't want to be, not after what I did yesterday, not ever again. 

"Okay." I breathe. Lando seems to deflate in relief. "I'm gonna go over there." His eyes flash to me, concern written all over his features. But he won't protest any further, not with George standing beside him, starting him down.

*** 

Only after the girl has left the house, the door shutting with a soft click, does Lando turn to glare at George. Others in the room join him. Some keep their eyes on their food, silent alliance. 

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Lando demands of the taller man who stands before him, his arms crossed over his chest decidedly.

"You and me both know exactly why Daniel isn't here. We know exactly what she is going to find there. We all do! How could you do that too her?!"

George merely stares back, impassive. "Let's hope we're both wrong. For his sake." Then he turns on his heel and leaves the room.

***

I pull up to the lone house standing in the middle of nowhere. I take a deep breath and get out of the car, wiping my sweaty hands on me jeans. I don't know why i'm so nervous. I know Daniel. And I know how I feel about him. And I know how being stood up feels time and time again. I want him to know that I want more.

I'm not asking for his hand in marriage, I'm not even asking for monogamy. I am just asking for reliability. It's hard to be dedicated to someone when they're only putting in half the hours. 

I still have the key he placed in my palm on Saturday morning. When I let myself in, it's a balancing act, trying to open the door while not dropping the two coffees I've brought. I leave them on the counter once I'm in, along with the house key. I know from Lando that their flight leaves tomorrow so I won't be needing the key again. 

"Daniel." I call as I walk through the wide open first floor, letting him in on my presence in case he has company. But there's no Daniel to be found. Whatever he was doing last night must have really tuckerd him out, I think as I climb the stairs two at a time. Maybe I'll have to wake him. I can't really see him complaining. 

The master bedroom is the last door at the end of the hall, the only one closed. I stand in front of it and take a deep breath. Talking honestly about feelings always has my stomach in knots. But I know it's something him and I need to do at this point. 

No more avoiding it. I turn the knob and let the door push open.

Blue eyes stare wide at me from the bed, shock and fear and outrage all clear in his face. For a second I just stand there, glued to the spot. So this is what came up last night that took such president. I feel like I am going to throw up. I feel like I am going to cry.

But I don't do ethier, not when the door finishes its rotation and knocks against the wall, startling Daniel from his sleep, his body jerking up from where it lay behind Max's figure, curled around him, the _ big spoon. _ Him sitting up only makes it worse, it reveals both their lack of any clothing item. Daniel's staring at me. There's something like loss in his eyes. His mouth is moving but I don't hear anything, he looks like a fish out of water. Max looks like he got a good fucking and doesn't appreciate the rude awakening.

I don't want to talk about us anymore. I want to be anywhere but here.

I turn on my heel and run.

***

Daniel is chasing after me, yelling my name into the early morning. But I've got a head start- I didn't have to untangle myself from bed sheets. 

I pull away like the lights have just gone out. In my rear view mirror I can see him grow smaller, standing on the porch, his hair still a mess from sleep, watching me drive away.

***

When I get home I don't tell anyone what has happened. They try to ask but I brush past them, I lock my boys out of their own bedroom, I bury myself in our huge bed as the dark sets in. There is no need to tell them, in time, everything is known between the twenty of us, for better or worse.

The light slips away, even my phone seems to lose it's glow to the gloom, I make the call with nails between my teeth and not enough air in my lungs. I can already feel my vocal cords closing down for the winter.

"Avalon?" My sister questions on the phone.

"Avalon?" Sarah's voice is a light in the distance.

"Avalon?" Flower picks up before the phone even rings.

For a week. I don't speak. I throw my phone into the pool and leave it, and all his missed calls, there, in France. We leave the continent the next day. I go on long walks during the night, counting the constellations and wishing on the lucky stars. I drink coffee to keep the exhaustion away. Dreams are fickle figures who promise life only after death. 

I don't lose time wondering how if he cared about me, how he could leave me waiting. Questioning why on that night of all nights. And for him of all people.

No, I don't dare to think, and I don't dare to speak- not to anyone but George. Not for a week. 

Till we touch down in Graz on a Thursday before the sun. Till my sisters touch down mere hours later and I can finally find the words to tell them just how much I have missed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your Bitch is back.
> 
> Come back in 24 hours for the next chapter.


	20. When Worlds Collide

George and I fly into Graz early Thursday morning with the rest of the immediate Williams admin. When we land we break up, George and I immediately renting a car in which to drive to the track in. Neither of us slept well on the red eye but no matter, we still have to report bright and early to the Red Bull ring. We stop to get gas on the winding roads and George disappears into the small market, coming back with two red bulls in hand. 

"Really?" I ask as he climbs back into the drivers seat, looking at the chilled can he's thrown to me. 

"What? They're hella cheap, Red Bull likes to be a favorite around here. They'd probably replace the town's running water with an endless supply of it if they could. It'd be great publicity." Ignoring the mental image that brings, I ask George something that I've been wondering for a while. "Hey do the Red Bull drivers actually only get to drink Red Bull during races? Because I think if I was one of the Red Bull trainers i'd be horrified. Not to mention Alex's internal intestines are probably some odd shade of neon by now. George takes his eyes off the road for a second so he can look at we with an expression that just screams 'why are you like this?'

"No. They just have to use the bottle. They can fill them with whatever beverage they like. It's usually water. On Alex's birthday week last year he filled it with OJ." We both sneer.

"It was his birthday and he picked orange juice? Out of all juices?" 

"Yup"

I groan. "How uncreative."

George snorts and my obvious disappointment in our friend.

***

When we get to the track we're one of the first team's there. I'd planned it this way. So that George and I could walk around the track and do press before any of the other drivers, so I don't have to talk to anyone but my teammate, just as it has been for the last week.

So we can be long gone before any of them arrive. It means we don't get to see Alex or Lando that morning. But we also successfully avoid a run in with either of their teammates.

Before I know it me and George are back in the car, bound for Vienna, the larger of the two Stryian cities within driving distance of the track. I had assured George that he didn't have to come with me, it's at least an hours drive into the city and beyond, to it's airport. But George had merely held his hand out for the keys, which I threw to him as I rounded the opposite side of the blacked out car. On empty morning streets, among the great green hills of the Stryian countryside, we rip through the serenity. With no cops patrolling the long stretches of tree lined roads, George guns it. Has us pressed up against the walls every time he makes a turn. The air is fresh in my lungs, screaming through the car's open windows. Tearing at our clothing and hair. A vengeful spirit. I laugh in it's face. I laugh for the first time in a week. George only goes faster.

***

We get in just as Flower and Sara's plane touches down. We find the two familiar faces by the luggage claim. They spot me before I spot them and practically tackle me to the ground in a hug. Their mouths move fast around a language I haven't had to use for months and I struggle to understand their words. But I don't need to remember my Italian in order to recognize their obvious excitement at being here. "Ava. Why didn't we visit you sooner?" Flower says, finally switching to English after giving George a once over. I smile at these two girls who I didn't know I missed as much as I did until now.

"I don't know." I confess my voice breaking. Concern creeps into their faces for a second. They don't know what's happened. They don't know why I needed them here this weekend. But it doesn't matter. They'd be here regardless. 

"I really missed you guys." I tell them honestly. Their faces immediately break into a look I know all too well from my three sisters. Love.

They know something is wrong. But they don't ask, there will be time for that later. For now, we cling onto each other. Barely able to believe that we're here, and together.

***

My sister is the last to arrive to the city. Her plane touches down just 5 minutes after George and the rest of my family have gone to find food in the early hour. I stand by the gate, slowly creasing the travel guide I picked up when we first entered the airport. My nerves getting the best of me. 

I hadn't initially invited my blood sister. I never would have thought that Nix would ever come to watch me race. Not after what she saw before. Not after all that we went through in that empty house by the coast. She'd found out on her own, from the other two, after i'd called her without an invitation. She'd bought her own plane ticket before I could even offer to cover it. For once she may have actually found something to despise more than me racing, that being me not inviting her to one. My sister will always be an enigma to me.

But that all goes out the window the second I see her, her equally unreal red hair guiding me to her, a lighthouse. And when she sees me, I'm sure my expression is mirrored on her face. I'm walking towards her in a stupor, I just want to get to her, to touch her, to confirm that she is in fact here, on the other side of the world, to watch me race in a Formula 1 GP. But she doesn't waste any such time. She crossing the remaining space between us in two quick strides. The second she reaches me she's dropping her bags, she's taking my face between her hands. 

"Ava." Is all she says. It's all she has too. It's in that 'big sister' voice that always makes me feel both very small and very protected all at the same time. The tears are almost immediate. I can't hold them in anymore. Not when she says my name like that.

Her face twists with concern.

"Oh Ava." She says and pulls me closer to her, into a tight hug. I clutch at my sister. And she holds on just as tight.

***

Nix somehow convinces George to let her drive. I'm not paying attention enough to see how the impossible feat happens. I just know that when we get to the car I abruptly find myself being ushered into the back seat along side Sara and Flower. They both sit with their faces pressed to the glass for the duration of the drive. I stare straight out the windshield, listening to my sister and George converse, barley believing that the two can exist at the same time.

How worlds collide.

***

I've rented a town house in the small city below the track and we spend at least ten minutes squabbling over which bedroom belongs to who. I quickly declare that I should get the biggest, I am the reason they are all here, after all.

"What happened to host hospitality?" George asks no one from the corner.

I turn to him, "you can leave now."

He clasps his chest, feigning offense. But he gets to his feet when I keep glaring. 

"Fine, fine, I'm leaving! Ava i'll see you tomorrow." He tells me on his way out, kissing my cheek as he goes. 

I move for the groceries as the front door closes with a click, ignoring my sisters curious eyes.

"So..." They start, closing in.

I turn back to them, pulling the bottle of wine from the bags with a flourish.

"First, can I offer y'all a drink?"

***

We break bread as the sun goes down. Two bottles opened and shared between four glasses. Four mouths and one heart. They are sisters. No matter what. No matter when or where they are.

They have come together across the four corners of the globe for each other.

Just a call away.

How lucky they are to have each other. 

***

In the end I don't know why I bothered to get a four bedroom house. Maybe just cause I can. Regardless, we all end up in the same bedroom, limbs tangled, sleep even and equal. In the dark, we are a living mass, we inhale and exhale the same air, we move to the same heartbeat. We look like something old and eternal. Forgotten to the dark. But the absence of light we become stronger, together. 

In the morning, still lying like that, just in time to beat the sun's light, I open up to my family. 

I tell them what has happened.

***

They know Daniel from glimpses of memory. A hot day in March before my birthday when he'd pulled me close before he let me go, before I went to them. But that had been temporary. That time I had been destined to return to him. Now, I'm not sure where we stand. 

Nix is sure of one thing, that I should block him. Flower proposes that we kill them both, make it look like they did it to each other. "Boys and their anger." She says, waving it off like she's gets rid of bodies in her free time.

But Sarah just reaches for me, taking my hand in hers. "What do you want Ava? We're here for you, how can we help?"

***

I don't want to get out of the car when we arrive. I've been trying to ignore my mounting anxiety all week but now it's happening. There's nowhere to hide here. And if Daniel's many missed calls are anything to go by, I doubt he will be passing up the opportunity to find me. But I don't want to be found. I want to hide.

Flower and Sara are out of the car. They call for us to follow but I'm rooted to the spot. I want to hide.

"Ava." George says.

"Ava?" My sister repeats. I blink and they're both still in the two seats before me. They're both staring at me with mirrored looks of concern. When I look up she must see something in my eyes, for it immediately spurs her into action.

Turning to George she tells him, "Get out."

"What? This is my car!" George reminds her. Nix turns back to him, not saying anything but glaring at him with a murderous expression. He just glares back. 

"George..." I say with meaning in my tone. I know he's just being protective but there's no need for it. Not with my sister. With these three women. 

George hesitates a moment then finally vacates the car with a parting look in my direction. I try to convey confidence that I don't feel right now. I feel like all I am is anxiety. My two sisters rejoin us in the car, signaled by Georges disgruntled exit.

"What's wrong?" They ask, but Nix is already speaking.

"Avalon do you want us to go back? If you want that, that's what we'll do. We can turn this car around right now, we can ditch the day or even the whole race if you want. We will hide your ass. But just know that it's not going to get any easier next weekend. In fact, it's probably gonna get harder. I know you feel a lot of gratitude to him for where you are but the truth is you don't owe him anything. So if you can't get over this, we'll leave. We won't come back. But if you don't want to do that, you still have every right to go in there. The three of us are here now and we won't let him get anywhere near you. You're not here for him. You're not here for any of these men. You're here to race. You're here to win."

***

I walk into the stadium with my head held high, my sisters and my George by my side. Flower holds my hand. My sister clings to my other side, her arm looped in casual possessiveness across my shoulders. They send a clear message. 

'Long before she was known, she was ours.'

***

And like that, Avalon slips from the comfort of her boys to the comfort of her sisters. It is not as though they do not understand. In fact they would probably understand her current predicament better than most. But for now they don't push her on it. And she doesn't invite them in. She will, eventually. But tonight, this weekend, this race. She just wants to be with the people who know her best. With the people who don't see her as something fragile, to be protected, but rather as something that has already broken. Broken, but healing, just a little bit more, every damn day.

***

For once I am not the only person in the house capable of making good food. The four of us lounge around the kitchen, another bottle of wine yet again divided among our respective glasses, the glow in the room keeping the cold night out. "Thank you for coming this weekend." I tell them. "No matter how I do tomorrow, thank you."

Sara leans her head so she can rest it comfortingly on my shoulder.

"Of course." She mumbles, exhausted. 

"We're family." Flower affirms as she hands me my newly filled glass. "We're only a call away."

***

On the track the next day I finally get all three of them all-access passes. Yesterday I hadn't had the foresight to do so and ended up having to have one of my boys close to vouch for them any time I had to leave to be on the track. Now they are free to explore as I buckle my belt in anticipation of qualifying. "Just please be back here in 15 minutes." They nod as I put on my helmet. Then I'm pulling out, leaving my sisters in the garage staring after me.

***

When I pull back in, my sisters are there, waiting.

***

I don't win that weekend, I only barely make it into Q3. All I can think about is how the headlines will read. How they will already be chalking up last weekend's win to luck, this race being proof of my illegitimacy.

But the next day, with my sisters screaming my name from the paddock, I climb six placements, I make it onto podium, third place, just for them. It's not a win but it's still a trophy. That night we drink out of it. My sisters, and my brothers. We all stuff into that tiny house.

***

Daniel may of been my entrance into this sport. The pioneer of my dreams. But now I'm just as much a competitor as him. I have earned my own seat among these gods. I have earned my own respect. Otherwise it would just be me and my sisters tonight. As I expected. 

Instead it is my entire family, my sisters and my boys and Charles and Pierre and Lewis and Sebastian and Kimi, the last three of whom show up late but with enough bottles to make up for it. It becomes a celebration of all of us. Lewis and Sebastian's trophies get passed around just as much as mine. 

In that tiny house we rejoice. For the first time in weeks, I don't have any time to miss him, I don't have any reason to.

***

None of us sleep. We stay up all night basking in the presence of one another. When the sun begins to light the entire house, we spill back into the tiny kitchen, Sebastian and Kimi get to work on breakfast. 

***

George finds me in the yard in a quiet moment, the rest of my family to caught up in each other to notice. I don't mind, I like the time to think. But I'm also just as happy for his presence.

"What are you thinking about, Avalon?" He asks, coming to settle in one of the lawn chairs beside me. 

"You first." I tell him, not bothering to move an inch. He stays silent for a long while.

"I'm thinking that this is the first time I've ever spent so much time with this many of the other drivers. I thought we would all have to be retired to get along this well, but we're not. I'm thinking that I have you to thank for that, you brought us together." I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "I'm thinking how grateful I am that you are my teammate."

I smile too. 

He leans over, brushes my long hair back so he can see my face from his side angle.

"Your turn." I sigh.

"I'm thinking that if my family keeps growing like this, I'm going to need to start getting bigger houses." I tell him, smiling.

He grins back. "Yes, I do think that's something _we'll_ have to start considering."

***

Sometime later he gets up, stretching gold skin over lean muscle where his unbuttoned shirt doesn't cover. Then he's headed in.

"George?" I call before he can disappear inside.

"Yes Ava?" He answers obediently.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all have enjoyed the double update ❤
> 
> Special thank you to all of you who commented on chapter 18 with advice for how to deal with Max. I'm pretty sure I've figured that part of the plot out now. And ethier way it was just nice to know that I wasn't alone in my disappointment in him.
> 
> Have lovely day and stay safe please!


	21. On The Shores Of Great Britain

Three days later I stand in the Graz Airport, where my sisters and I bid each other our goodbyes. We promise ourselves that we will see each other soon. That surely, we will not be apart for this long again.

When my sister finally boards her flight, the last to go, I am hit with an overwhelming sense of deja vu. I am reminded of the last time my sisters and I retreated to our separate sides of the globe, I can still taste that sudden loneliness on the back of my tongue.

But this time- I'm not alone. My sisters are gone, but George is there, taking my hand before solitude can. 

"Come on," Lando says, there in an instant as well, Alex too. I look back at the gate one more time, watching where my sisters departed. Then we all leave, breakfast on our minds.

***

The next day we flee Graz as well, London-bound on a private jet. Lando sits across from me, staring out at the blanket of white obscuring the land far below, slouching in his seat so his legs reach far enough to rest atop Alex's lap across from him. George lies on one of the couches on the other side of the aisle, his long frame hanging off both ends. With the angle at which his head hangs off, I'm sure he'll be aching later. As it is, he's fast asleep at the moment, his chest rising and falling rhythmically below a thin green shirt.

"Is there a train version of the mile high club?" Lando asks, abruptly sitting up and pulling his earbuds out of his ears after nearly an hour of silence. 

Alex and I exchange a confused look. 

"Excuse me?" I question him, "Are you just wondering about that in your free time? Also, how do you not know this?"

Lando blushes, abruptly explaining, "no-no, it's in my book- I mean, i'm listening to an audiobook, and well..." Lando blushes redder, "let's just say they're joining the club?" I can't help but laugh at that.

"Which? The mile-high club or the mile-long club?" I ask, honestly, it doesn't matter. Either way it's hilarious, to think, Lando is listening to audiobook smut just across from us but only started turning red when I started teasing him. Now that is skill.

Regardless, he gasps at my words.

"Is that what it's called?!" He questions, his eyes lighting up with humor. "The mile-long club?" 

Alex snorts. I just shake my head and put my earbuds back in. It is far too early for this.

***

"I think that I'd like to sleep forever," I tell George when we finally reach his flat, Britain as cold and gloomy as ever. His place is a familiar warmth though and I drop down onto the couch, stretching like a cat in the sun. 

"Any idea what you want to eat?" He asks me from the kitchenette, rummaging around in the fridge. 

I hum in response, "Mabey pizza?" Flipping through the channels on the TV, I settle on some nature program. George moves my legs when he comes to sit with me, I replace them on his lap once he's settled. He doesn't try to stop me.

He just looks at me pensively.

"We should talk." He says.

"About what?" I ask, cheer in my voice but I keep my eyes glued to the TV, refusing to look at him, suddenly all too aware of this being our first time alone since we picked up my sisters from the airport. 

"Ava." He says warningly, letting me know he won't be taking any of my shit.

I sigh dramatically but finally look at him. "What is it that you want to talk about, my needy boy?" He doesn't rise to the bait. Just keeps looking at me like I'm a bomb that he doesn't know how to defuse.

I'd tell him if I knew. I'd let him. But I'm just as lost as he is. Unmoored and unsure of what to think of it all. 

Formula One was always the one that got away, the high I was never able to forget. Now I'm here, at the top, the source of my dreams. And yet in the past two weeks, this sport has chewed me up, and spit me out, and ripped my limbs from their sockets, and pressed loving kisses to the garish wounds. And yet, to George, I have emerged from the fire unscathed. At least on the outside. Now I don't know how to let him in.

I don't answer George, but I shift on the couch, pulling my legs back from his lap, he lets me go. Only for me to crawl back to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my head in the place where shoulder meets neck. He tenses for a second, sitting unmoving on the couch, not used to me initiating this kind of physical contact when not for cuddling purposes. But I don't know how else to communicate at that moment.

Soon enough, his arms come up to wrap around me, sitting next to him but holding myself to him, so our bodies are flush. It's intimate but not romantic. Our breath evens out until we inhale and exhale together. His hand comes up to cradle my head, stroking my hair soothingly. I hide my face in his neck so he can't see my face when my voice cracks. "We'll talk, I'm just not ready."

He sighs heavily but doesn't argue, he just holds me closer. 

***

After exactly one hour of driving in London, I am unbuckling my seat belt and practically launching from the car. Behind us, cars honk their horns more aggressively than they already have been. "Ava! What the fuck?" George yells, fumbling with the passenger door and his seatbelt as Alex and Lando cackle in the backseat, careless. 

"Ava, what the fuck." George repeats more frantically, shouting louder to be heard over the increasing honking behind us. He's just gotten his seatbelt off and I pull his door open only for him to come spilling out of the car, tripping over his own feet with the momentum. I hide a smile as I take the moment of confusion to slide into the seat he was occupying, slamming the door shut resolutely. George immediately has his face at the window. 

"What are you doing?!" He questions anger, confusion, and outrage in his voice. I merely gesture to the now vacant driver's seat. "You should get in," I tell him. He glares at me for a second, then throws his hands in the air and rounds the car. 

"Okay okay!" He shouts at the mid-day traffic brought to a halt behind us. "We're leaving!"

George barely puts his seatbelt on before taking the car out of the park and pulling off the main road. 

"Ava, what. The. Fuck." He says, eyes on the road, anger in his voice. But it's hard to take his anger seriously when Lando and Alex are still wiping away tears of laughter in the back seat. 

"Im sorry, did you want her to keep driving?" Lando questions, giggling behind us. "Because I think I've seen my life flash before my eyes more in the past five hours than I have during the rest of my short, precious existence. Honestly Ava, after that performance, I have no idea how you made it into Formula One."

"Hey!" I cry, turning in my seat so I can glare at him. "It's not my fault you idiots drive on the wrong side of the road," I say, defensive. Lando just bursts out laughing again. "Someone should take away your super license." He groans when I throw my phone at him, hard. Alex just laughs harder.

"Ava? Your phone? As a projectile?" I open my mouth to respond but George cuts in. "Shut up, all of you, or so help me God I will leave you all on the side of the road." I don't say anything after that. But neither do the boys in the back. After a moment George says, "Oh and Ava, you most definitely should not have a super license. You are a menace." 

***

It's a two-hour drive and I fall asleep watching the rain on the window. George wakes me with a steady hand on my shoulder, gently nudging me into wakefulness, the warmth of his skin seeping in momentarily. Alex and Lando are already out of the car, walking towards the only discernible building around, a dilapidated concrete structure covered in ivy. It looks straight out of a horror movie in which the stupid teens never return to the car. I shiver just looking at it.

George sees and mistakes it for me being cold, twisting in his seat so he can reach back and grab me Lando's discarded 'Ferrari' jacket. I put it on when he hands it to me, I'm already wearing a jacket but my California senses are not used to this weather. I give him a grateful smile. Then, "There is no way I'm going in there."

"Oh come on!" He says, not missing a beat. "I promise it's cool."

"No dude. When you said 'we wanna show you something cool' you didn't say that the place looks straight out of a horror movie. I am too young to die!" He glares at me.

"It does not! It's only been abandoned for a couple of years now, surely not enough time to become haunted. It just looks ancient because of the ivy."

I nearly jump out of my skin when my door suddenly swings open before I'm able to reply. I glare out into the foggy cold. Lando just looks back, unimpressed. "Come on!" He wines, looking at us then to the building ahead. 

"I'm staying here. Y'all should have told me your 'cool spot' included a haunted building that will probably collapse only once we're all in it."

Lando just snorts. "Isn't that how people always end up dying?" He asks, "in horror movies I mean, by not sticking together?"

George sighs melodramatically, "he does have a point there... Guess you'll just have to come with us." He moves to get out of the car but I grab his wrist. 

"George." I plead with him. "No, I don't want to go in there."

He sighs. "Come on Ava. It's not that scary. Just some cobwebs and graffiti. And I promise the view is worth it." 

I don't know if it's actual fear or just stubbornness at this point but I will not go into that structure. And the last thing I want is to be left alone. But I let go of his wrist, sinking into my seat.

"Go ahead if you want, but I will not go in there." George sighs heavily beside me, stares a hole through my head even as I refuse to look at him, staring straight out the window. Then he straightens and honks the horn, startling us all. Alex physically jumps, closer to the building than any of us, turning with clear confusion on his face. George merely yells for him to come back. "What? We're leaving?" Lando questions, clearly expecting George to take his side on this. But George merely nods and starts the car again. "Come on, I'll buy you whatever you want from McDonald's." He tells the two boys. They share a look over the parked car but ultimately, they get back in.

"Thank you," I whisper to George. He doesn't say anything in response, just keeps his eyes on the road.

***

As it is we spend much of that week in the car, my boys showing off their old stomping grounds- or at least the ones I'll go into, when not needed at headquarters or the track. I suspect it is a way to distract from the inevitable. All three of my boys hail from Britain in one form or another and the pressure for my boys to do well in this race is palpable. Especially for George, who for the first time, may have a car capable of delivering an impressive performance. I've proved that much, even if it's come at a cost to my confidence. Last week, with my sisters in town, and Claire still feeling guilty for not being at that podium press conference in France, I had been able to get out of third-place-press. But I know this week I won't be as lucky. No matter where I place in the end, I'm well aware that I won't be fleeing the track so soon again. I will have no choice but to answer those circling vulture's questions or risk losing it all. After all, half this sport, at this level, is being a likable person. I just don't know how likable I will be if every success comes with ridicule. If every failure is touted as the beginning of the long over-due ending.

In my dreams, I stand before a sea of reporters, all jostling and rabid, all yelling my name. When I fail to answer them, my vocal cords, shreds in my throat, they break forth, flooding over the raised platform and onto the podium conference table where I sit. I drown beneath their writhing mass, my name the only thing I can hear, chanted from their lips over and over again.

I startle with Alex curled around me and Lando begging me to wake. They pull me closer when I still. They don't ask me if I'm okay. None of us are, young and with the weight of the world on our shoulders. None of us can sleep fully through the night. But we make sure to hold each other close, and when the demons come again, the rest of us are there to fend them off.

***

On Thursday, on a track nearly fifteen minutes outside of London, we, my boys, the next generation of drivers, meet the next generation of karters. Some of the children are so small they cannot ride a bike yet. But they can drive with their eyes closed.

I watch from the stands as Lando, Alex and George all happily make fools out of themselves for the expense of these small beings. They scream and cry out in joy when one of my boys grabs them suddenly, throwing them into the air only to catch them seconds later. These children, practically babies, are just like us. They see us as gods, I'm sure. But I see them as hope. As a reminder as to why I am here, how much I have given up to be here. 

They remind me of my childhood. At age four there was not much I knew about the world. But I did know one thing for certain, that I never wanted to walk away from the speed beneath me. 

"Avalon." I'm pulled from my lone appreciation by an unexpected yet known voice.

"Lewis." I sigh, hiding my shock behind a smile. "You came."

He laughs, pulling me into a hug. "Don't sound so surprised Avalon," he tells me as he pulls away, righting his jacket. "Even I have a Thursday off once in a while. Besides, I'm about to make these kids years." He tells me, winking. I snort and push him lightly. He only chuckles and puts his shades back on. Then he's headed down to the track, Roscoe in the toe. I can tell when they notice him by the screaming. He is swarmed by jumping children in a matter of seconds, he simply smiles down at them. 

Someone hands him a pen. 

I invited him here, to this hysteria. I grimace as a camera flashes.

But Lewis takes it all in stride. He stands there, captivating the crowd, and seemingly in love with every bit of it. "Please, please." I hear him say to those closest to him, the children. "Be patient. I promise I won't forget anyone."

My boys find me on the bleachers with mirror expressions of angst. Before Hamilton's arrival, they'd been the main event, the prophesized British princes. But now the king is here. The shadow has been cast.

"Don't look so sad," I tell them, scooting over and patting the stand next to me meaningfully. They file in around me on que. "Let the old man have his fun." I declare, looking at Hamilton far below, how the crowd moved at the flick of his wrist. "His days are numbered. Soon enough, we will be royalty in our own right."

***

Hours later the sun makes the most of its last minutes on earth as the final children are packed into their parents' cars along with snacks and their gear and all of their still-possible dreams. 

And still, high in the stands, Avalon Mimic can be found. He finds her there, finally.

"Avalon, I never got to ask how you are doing." He says in greeting, easily lounging in the bleacher row before her. He looks unbothered by the day. He looks at peace.

The same could not be said about her. Still, she replies, "I'm fine." 

He doesn't move when he says, "He didn't deserve you. Not with how he acted."

Something in the girl cracks. She laughs. Something high and crazy and justified.

"And what? You do?"

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't move an inch. But he does open his eyes, expecting to find confrontation in the silence. But she's not looking at him. 

He does turn now, finally, seeing to where she looks when they speak of love. When he finds it he closes his eyes again, a statue once more. But not before he tells her.

"They deserve you."

She leaves with two words whispered into their shared air. "I know."

***

On Saturday I and my boys all arrive late to the track, just in time to get into our suits and our cars. My boys all drive like they have something to prove, and prove it they do. Britain marks the first race weekend we all make it into Q3. When I finally emerge from my car, pulling my helmet from my head, a smile already on my face, my boys are there, waiting. My sisters may be gone, back to chasing their dreams. But my boys are here, as they were before I got here, as they will hopefully be for decades to come. But now Pierre and Charles stand in our little garage too. "What shall we do now?" They ask me. My boys. My family. I turn to George. It is the best he has qualified all year. Words cannot express how proud I am of my teammate at that moment. Of our entire team for enabling the luck we have had this year, that we will hopefully continue to possess. P4 and P6 respectively. I will gladly start behind him. I'll gladly do whatever he wants to do.

"George?" I ask, turning the question on him. "What shall we do."

He hesitates for a moment, looking around unsure at us. 

Then he smiles, and I know I'm in for something good. 

***

It's still hours before dark. But that's fine, it gives us enough time to acquire all that we will need. It takes us 6 different grocery stores, but by the time we approach the house, the sun has long descended, and the three cars we have brought between us are full of toilet paper. Enough to service a small army. Or maybe, say, cover a house. 

"Are you sure he's not here?" I question Lando for the umpteenth time, looking up at the huge house rising out of the ground before us. If you want to talk haunted, this place is definitely up there with the ivy covered building. I never would've guessed that Max would fancy himself a place like this. But I guess I really don't know him at all. Not that I'm trying to.

Lando doesn't bother to reassure me anymore, just comes up beside me and puts a roll in my hand. "You ready?" He asks me, staring at me hard. I look down at the object in my hand. Give it an experimental toss only to catch it easily. My reflexes on high alert even hours after qualifying.

I turn back to my boy, a grin on my face. "Oh, am I ready."

***

The next day, I start behind my fellow Williams, in p6! I can't even be mad at my low placement, not when it means I get to look at the beauty of George climbing into his p4 seat. I've rarely seen that kind of joy on his face. I want to see it more often. 

***

George fucks up on the opening lap, on the first turn. I feel for him as I slide up in front of him in the mere seconds it takes for him to right himself. But it's the only mistake he makes all race. The same cannot be said for me.

My advancement means I'm left to fight Charles, who is a challenge, don't get me wrong. Where my driving is push and risk, trust that my car will get me there, Charles is tempered talent. His high status is already ensured, the promised son of Ferrari, he who carried his team back from the brink. But that was 2021. Now it's 2023 and he's lost some of his scrappiness. Meanwhile, I am all pedal to the metal and barely breaking on turns. Where he has so far to fall, I am already there. But climbing rapidly, gaining miles between us. With half the race to still go, I finally get ahead of him, only to find myself chasing down Max. 

Max's driving is something I know all too well by now. We have come together so many times already this season, our talents so well matched. 

Max should drive like Charles, like a lion, lazy off victory and praise and his fill. He is Red Bull's entire fucking future. He's not going anywhere. And yet he still drives like he has something to prove. Like there is bloody punishment on the other side of failure. It's unbelievable to watch how he doesn't go flying from the corners, every time I force him into them if he wants to maintain his place in front of me. He barely slows, I barely let him. I ride his ass for ten laps, for twenty. I refuse to back down and he will not yield. 

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, memories of him in bedsheets threaten to break my focus. Anger from weeks ago that I've pushed deep down, that's now burning me from the inside out. I'm pushing two-fifty at the moment but in that second, I just want to bang my head against a wall. When we race like this, it feels like a muted screaming match. Like all that I can't bring myself to say, to him or my boys or Daniel. 

When Max finally fucks up, I'm ready. I'm about to overtake him and he knows it. So with inches between us, he goes into the turn and spins out. I try to break but it's too late. I'd gone full force into that turn, anticipating my one opportunity to overtake. Now I'm careening straight into Max's car, splayed across the track as it is in that moment. For a split second, Max is only feet away, I can see the whole car shake and become airborne with the force of impact. I can see him jerked away. In the darkest recess of my mind, I can't help but think, karma, asshole.

Then my car is ahead of where I've punted him from the track. But half the front of my car is missing. In the fallout, I have no idea how I'm driving.

"Pits, Pits, Pits." Teddy is demanding in my ear. I don't have to be told twice, not when a good amount of my car is now debris on the track behind me. 

The pit stop lasts thirty seconds. They have to replace the entire front of my car. Waiting in that pit lane, those thirty seconds seem longer than the whole rest of the race combined. I'm out of there the second the light is green. Now behind the safety car, twenty laps left of the race, I find myself in 19th, dead last. I take deep breaths as I work to maintain my tires at a slow pace. I have twenty laps to climb as high as I can make it. I have nowhere to go from here but up. When the yellow flag finally lifts, I am ready for it.

***

When I cross the finish line it is in p10, and with the fastest lap point. Teddy tells me I should be proud. "And George?" I can't ask quick enough. I can't see him from my place in the midfield, that must be a good sign.

"Avalon, he's won."

***

This time, it is my turn to tackle him. Lando and Alex are just waiting for the right time, watching with anticipation as he poses with his car in the first place spot between Hamilton and Daniel. But I don't hesitate for a moment, not even in the presence of the latter. I jump, screaming, into his arms. He catches me, just barely, staggering back as the cameras flash. But I don't care. I do my best to crush his bones in my hug. Alex and Lando file in too now, engulfing us two in a hug. I pull his helmet off to reveal a tear-stained face and the brightest smile I have ever seen on him. Joy is the only way I can describe our little family at that moment. "I am so fucking proud of you!" I tell him, over the deafening roar. 

"Us too." My boys tell him. We don't bother to wipe away his tears. They are well fought for and well deserved. 

***

That night I lead our procession of cars to the ivy-covered building. When I park, so do the 3 or 4 other cars behind us. From which emerge the men I have befriended this year. Charles, Pierre, Sebastian, Kimi, Hamilton, and My boys. When I get out of the car, George is there, righting me on my heels. I expect him to pull away then but he doesn't, keeps my hand tightly in his.

"I thought you didn't want to come here again." He tells me, clear puzzlement in his voice. 

"Come on," Alex calls to us, he and Lando already leading the rest towards the building in the twilight, a case of beers in his arms. 

"We don't have to go in here," George assures me in a tense tone, looking back at them. "I don't want to make you do anything you're not comfortable with Ava."

I sigh, "he's wrong, I don't deserve you." I mutter to myself. Not him, not any of them.

"What?" George question, concern creeping into his voice. But that's the opposite of what I want from him right now. He should be happy, victorious. I look up at him, "I trust you." I tell him with as much force and meaning and truth and affection as I can put behind the words. He stares at me for a second, searching my eyes.

I don't look away.

"I trust you too," He tells me, tired and cautious and full of exasperated affection. So I pull him towards the building, and he comes. 

It's still terrifying, it still looks like our final resting place for sure. But with all my boys in the toe, it's not so bad. They light the place up with their laughter and screaming. And when we get to the top floor, the stars in the sky being the only roof over our heads I can't help but agree, it is truly gorgeous up here. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays Y'all!
> 
> Ik this chapter is all over the place but I hope y'all still enjoy it. Someone had to give George a win....
> 
> Special thank you to the two people who commented on the last chapter. (And all the ones before it) I know im shit at responding but please know that comments are cherished and loved and I reread them whenever I need motivation to keep writing so I can't thank you enough ❤❤❤
> 
> Till next time,  
> Please stay safe!
> 
> P.S. Fuck Mazepin


	22. Forward Movement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I'd recommend re reading the previous chapter if you haven't just read the whole story through as this chapter picks up immediately where the other one left off.

Atop a concrete structure, in the process of being reclaimed by mother nature, we toast to the future, to what will come. I wish for many more wins for my teammate, as well as for myself. There was a time when I thought my teammate would be my first enemy. But he has always been my first ally. My confidante. My partner. 

***

Sebastian and Kimi leave not long after that, the old men that they are. But not before Sebastian kisses my cheek and Kimi gives me a brief hug and they both wish me well on the coming race. I show my gratitude to these old gods with sweet offerings. With a smile that I hope conveys my appreciation for coming all this way and kind words that return their well wishes. 

At this point in the season, my own competitiveness aside, there aren't many who I would not be overjoyed to watch crowned this year. Even if the champions of this season are already making themselves known. Lewis, Max, Valtteri, Daniel, Charles, Alex, Sebastian, Me. We have all either won big this season, or been consistent enough to make ourselves known. And at this point in the season, there is still time for other names to come to light. Like George. Like Pierre, who now approaches, a beer bottle in one hand and a small, amber glow in the other. I reach for the joint when he's beside me, sensing rough waters ahead. He watches me as I pull from it, wait, then exhale a cloud, one of many, into the night sky. Only then does he speak. 

"How are you Avalon?" He asks me, the lilt in his accented English stronger with the time of day and the intoxicants flowing through him. He seems both more blunt and more soft. As though he'd slit my throat then hold me close as a bleed out. I take another hit.

"My team brought home a win today. There is not much more I can hope for on Sundays." I tell him, giving him a conspiratorial smile. We all know how it is to watch your teammate win, no matter your relationship. As drivers, winning is the number one goal. I can't help the nagging reminder that if not for Max, today likely would've gone very differently. It seems to be becoming somewhat of a motif in my life, Max standing in the way of what I want. 

Pierre listens to me with an indulgent smile, only for it to turn knowing once I'm done.

"We both know i'm not talking about George. He's not the one who had a crash today." I scowl. He's right, of course.

I turn, taking my eyes from him and looking towards the heavens. I wonder if I could survive the fall.

"Well i'm not the one who was airborne today. Maybe try checking with Max, you're the one who used to be teammates with him, after all." I tell him, avoiding eye contact, my voice cold even in my own ears. 

In my periphery, I can see when Pierre closes in, entering my personal space so he can still be heard in a hushed voice. "Avalon, you are breaking rule #3" He tells me, unashamed reprimand in his voice. "I know you feel betrayed by him and Daniel. But unresolved tension will only lead to days like today. To crashes even worse then today. No one wants that, not even you, not even him. Talk to him,  _ please _ ."

I don't look at him, still staring at the sky. But I can feel that anger reignited, burning just beneath the surface of my skin. I can remember how in the second that Max was in the air, how it has felt to be in that place. Where the only thing that keeps you going is the thing that could kill you. How terrifying it is to be reminded of that. And yet, all I could feel was hate. Was that he deserved it. 

"Okay." I whisper, quiet into the night.

***

Later, in bed with my boys, I break down. "I'm sorry, i'm so sorry." I apologize again and again to George. I feel terrible for casting a shadow on this day, when all he should feel is joy. But George merely shushes me, pulling me closer against him. 

"Hey, hey," he says, shushing my tears in the dark bedroom. "Don't apologize, today has been a roller coaster for us all. You have emotions, that's normal. I'd be more worried if you were fine, honest." I sniffle. Lando reaches out, trying to brush my tears away but only succeeding in poking me in the eye. 

"Hey!!"

"Sorry, sorry!" He says, but it's clears he's trying not to laugh, I can't help it. I giggle a little at his sore attempt at comfort. But I roll over, facing George so i'm safe from any further assault on Landos part. George holds me closer.

"Talk to us Ava, tell us what's wrong."

"I crashed into Max today." I tell them, hot tears spilling over. George runs his hand through my hair soothingly. 

"We know Ava, but you both walked away from it. And you didn't DNF. I'd take that as a win." 

"No!" I say, sobbing now. "I crashed into him and all I could think was good riddance. Don't you understand! I used to see Max as an Idol, a God. I used to love that man, I used to look up to him. And yet all I can feel for him now is hate. I hate him! I hate him so much!" I cry, tears soaking George's shirt where I press my face. Lando crowds in from behind, still trying to provide comfort.

But it's little use.

I used to root for Max Verstappen. Long before I ever got here, I could see the similarities in our racing style. Screaming for him was as close as I could get to rooting for my own recklessness. 

But since the day I put my own foot into this sport, I've been learning to resent him. Since that first, and only day at Red Bull, when Horner couldn't keep his own hands to himself, since he's ripped wins from me in a car that should've been mine. Since he stole Daniel from me. 

Was he ever even really mine to begin with?

"I hate him." I repeat, all the fight gone out of me. "I really, really do."

I can feel it when George sighs, can feel his chest deflate against me. "Love, you have every right to."

"No!" I cry, pulling away so I can look him in the eye. Why can't he seem to grasp the gravity of the situation? "I have zero right to feel this way! Not when it puts you all at risk!" I'm sitting up now, practically yelling, hot tears on my face. I have known intimately the dangers involved with this sport, the sometimes, the inevitable pain. I can't bare the thought of any of these boys undergoing the agony I faced in my teen years at the hand of a mere accident in this sport. I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone for that matter, not even Max. 

George sits up then, taking my hands in his and forcing me to still. "Pierre is overly concerned about these types of things Ava." I open my mouth, defense in my throat. But he cuts me off, "For good reason, he's seen far too much loss at the hands of this sport to be anything other than weary. But we are human, love and hate are part of the course. He knows this himself, just ask Alex. We have all driven with at least a little spite from time to time, it usually makes for better races." He says, humor in his voice by the end. But I'm not laughing.

"George." I say, in as serious a tone as I can muster in that moment. "I could've killed you today. I could've killed any of you."

"I know, Ava," he tells me just as seriously, without missing a beat, "And that's why I do think you need to talk to Max, and not just him but Daniel too. If I'm being honest, I think him even more so. I know he still texts you before and after each and every race. And I know he hasn't deserved a response. But he's trying, and when you're ready, and it sounds like you are, I'm sure he will be ready and waiting. We all know how Daniel is." He says, a bittersweet smile on his lips. I return it. And for the first time in weeks, although pain comes with his name, it feels less like battle and more and more like surrender. It feels so good to put down the weapons. 

"But you don't have to do anything you don't want too." Alex sounds, somewhere in the dark.

"Right." Lando agrees, sure as ever.

"Agreed," George butts in. "Like I said before, a little rivalry on track never hurt anyone. Worse comes to worse and you can problem-solve like us and our predecessors before us and just have some good old-fashioned hate sex--  **Ouch** !" He squeals and jerks suddenly. 

"Too soon, asshole." Lando says, I can hear the smile in his voice though.

"What?! It's always worked for us!"

"Please stop!" I groan.

"Yes! Can we go to bed now?" Alex butts in. There's silence then- they're waiting on me. I take a deep breath, and sigh, disappointed to still find sparks in my throat.

"I'm sorry, I can't." I just can't. "But i'm gonna go." I tell them, getting out of bed then, trying to cause as little commotion as possible in the dark. 

With the battle over and negotiation on the horizon, anxiety looms, sparks fly once again.

I feel like I'm on fire.

I need to go.

"I'm gonna go." I tell them again, rooting around on the floor for my jeans. 

I'm burning. 

I'm gonna burn this whole place down. 

The keys are cold against my skin when my fingers close around them within the discarded fabric, a soothing calm in the distance, so far, 

but before, 

it wasn't even there.

I stand up, still in my pjs but zero fucks given, holding up the keys. 

"It's 3 am. Please, sleep. But very few people will be on the roads by now, and I need to go."

***

And even though they're all tired, sore from the strenuous day, rubbed raw by the emotional highs and lows, they can all understand that glint in her eye. What her words mean even when not spoken. Because at the end of the day, they are all cut from the same cloth. The same corner of the eternal tapestry. 

They are Formula One Future Champions after all. They can all understand that need for the one thing that will always lend a known high when all else is off kilter. 

They all change into warmer clothing, sensing this therapy session will be one for the ages, long and slow, kindling is hard fought for and hard won these days. 

Even she is stuffed into an oversized fleece by one of them - much to her protest (but secret pleasure) - and they are off.

***

"Wwwwweeeeeeeee!" Lando and Alex squeal as I gun it on an open stretch of highway. Out of all of the open windows, it is summer and I know the rolling hills are green giving into amber but the dark turns everything the same black and white. 

Timeless.

Except for us, where we rip through the untouched, making weird noises all the while.

George is silent in the seat behind me, tummy-deep in a sleeping bag and engulfed in a hoodie, knuckles white where he grips the door and the middle divider. But he's wearing a smile as big as the one he wore to the podium at some point today. 

How long ago that feels now.

Lando grips the back of my headrest with one hand, the door with the other. And that supper sonic giggle- the one I joked with Charles about cities ago, well it's happening now, in full force. 

And Alex, well he's just got his hands disappearing outside of the sun roof as he squeals once more as if he is on the best roller coaster of his life. 

_ I love them. _

***

When we slow, when we are forced to by a red light, I finally ask something I've been wondering since we abandoned civilization.

"Lando, dude, what's up with all the Ferrari paraphernalia? You fucking Benito?" I tease, reaching for my water in this brief respite from the squeal of the tires.

"Nah." George starts for him, "Hes fucking Carlos."

"It's 'cause of his dick." Alex supplies helpfully. I promptly choke on my water.

"Yup!" George agrees helpfully, "he's  _ huge _ . Lando can't resist."

The man in question is about as red as the sweater I wear. The sweater I now want to take off... Ew.

"We love a fascist who's hung." Alex hums. Lando throws his head back in a groan. 

"Can you not call him that? We've talked about this."

"But why? He is."

"He's a nice person." Lando supplies, weakly, with his eyes closed.

"Who didn't kneel." I mutter. 

As I pull the car away from the now green light, the atmosphere is tense.

Lando's staring at me, I keep my eyes straight ahead. The four of us have never discussed that particular part of race days. I have never felt we needed to, the three of them have been kneeling since 2020. But as a woman in this sport, a marginalized class, the only one like me on the grid, I'm clearly less capable of turning a blind eye to that sort of thing as my boys are.

How easy being in F1 would be, if I could be a European boy like them.

"Charles didn't kneel ethier, not at first. Neither did Kimi." Lando whispers, hesitantly, like he's got a killing blow but he's trying to deliver it softly. I flex my hands around the steering wheel. "I know, I know.... " I won't act like that doesn't sting. But I also won't act like that's the same. "Charles has started kneeling though, only last year, yes but at least he does it now, at least he has some shame in it. And I'm not saying it's okay, that it means it's right, but Rikkoden is older, he grew up in a different generation. I'm not saying that that excuses him, but I'm saying he comes from a time in which signing up for this sport wasn't also agreeing to be a role model. But we are young, we have grown up on social media and have no right not to be educated on the hate in this world. I want to change what is expected in this sport. I want to show that as athletes, we see the voice that we have, and choose to use it for good. For empowering others to chase their dreams, just like we did. I realize now you three might not share my beliefs and opinions on this but I just, I..." I'm not sure what I'm even trying to say now, the words won't come, burned up by the anger in my throat. Burning me from the inside out. But then Lando reaches across the consul, taking my hand in his. "No, Ava, you're right... I... I..." But just like me, he can't seem to make the words come right. And when I look over, I find his eyes full of too much pain and confusion and hurt and I realize that maybe this is already a discussion that he's had time and time before. Not with my boys, but with Carlos. He must still refuse to tell Lando what he wants to hear. And yet Lando keeps defending him. 

I sigh. There is far too much there to unpack right now. So I let the subject drop beneath the roar of the engine. Under the tires and tread. I squeeze Lando's hand over the consul and try to breath out the flames. They cool enough for me to eventually think, for me to slip into bed and succumb for just a few short hours before we all have to be up to catch our flights.

***

By Tuesday we're all in Hungary. But I don't see anyone but George till the following day, jet leg and track obligations keeping us from one another. In the end, there is no big bash in Hungary, no coming together of all the drivers in a too-small hotel room. I can't be bothered to pull it together this week. Not when my few free seconds are spent riddled with anxiety whenever I think of the next race. Pierre's words sit like a stone in my gut, anchoring the flames I haven't been able to tend to since we were still in Britain. On Friday, I finally get a chance to let the edge off slightly. I go out early in practice, sacrificing good grip for time alone on the track. I find out how well I've placed only later, when a tall blond reporter asks me if i'm happy with my time, considering it has landed me as the second fastest. I tell her what I know she wants to hear.

"Yes. I'm thrilled. This is the highest I've ranked this early in a weekend. Let's hope I didn't peak too soon."

But what I want to tell her is:

"I thought that that- surely, would help, would ease my anxiety, would appease the flames. But it didn't at all, in fact, I think it's just made it so much worse. If someone doesn't put me out soon, all that's left of me will be ashes on a track."

I leave on my own shortly after that. We all have separate rooms on this continent and while I'm usually joined by at least George at all times, this weekend I spend more time then I have all year by myself, my boys too much of a reminder of all I still have to tend to. A reminder of the drafted-text that's in my phone, still waiting to be sent. My own hotel room becomes both a blessing and a curse. A church and a prison. In the quiet moments, I feel like i'm being burned at the stake. I wonder how long it will take for death's sweet release. How much longer I will fight.

***

It's my boys who finally come to my rescue, as per usual. Saturday night I hurriedly do my best to hide how little shits I've given when trying to keep any semblance of neatness. I stuff all my clothes in my closet in one big heap. Designer and all.

Then they're already here, loud and happy, tall and crowding their way into my room. Lando disappears into the bathroom almost immediately while Alex carelessly flops onto the king bed, making snow angels in the covers. George sits down on the couch and just stares at me. 

"You should change." He tells me, giving me a once over with intention. I cross my arms over my chest. 

"Excuse me?" He rolls his eyes at me, for all the world a parent talking to a petulant child. 

"They're not gonna let you into the restaurant in sweats and a ratty tank top. At least get in sweats with your own team on them."

I blink. What?

"What? What restaurant? Guys, I don't want to go out. I thought we were just watching a movie tonight."

Alex tuts from the bed. " _ We're _ just watching a movie tonight. You should really get dressed."

I turn to George, the panic rising in my throat. I know I've been a little out of it this week, despondent even. But tonight was supposed to be ours. And they're sending me away?

"George." I start, coming closer to him. "I-"

But he cuts me off, tutting at me. He lifts one sock-clad foot in front of him to keep me from getting closer. From clinging to him. "Don't look at me like that Avalon. We're not sending you away, or at least, not by our choice anyway, and we'll be here when you get back. It's Claire's orders, you should really check your work email, you know."

I take a step back so his foot isn't against my tummy, confused, "wait, what??"

"Yup." Alex sounds from my bed. "The power of Charlotte Sine." He says, waving his hands in the air for emphasis. I scoff. "Wait, so Charlotte just... Rented me out?" I ask, disbelieving.

"Yeah pretty much." Lando tells me, emerging from the bathroom only to belly flop onto the bed. More specifically onto Alex. "Feelin' a little dehumanized?" Lando asks me, speaking louder so I can hear him over Alex's groaning.

I look down at my hands, then at the closet I'm going to have to reveal in order to get dressed.

"Yeah, a little." I mutter. George laughs. 

"Get used to it."

***

Twenty minutes later I find Charlotte and Cate in the hotel's top-floor restaurant. They sit at a high table by the floor length windows, their laughter preceding them. When they spot me, they rise from the table on heels taller than my own, looking for all the world like young goddesses, only to pull me into their mortal arms.

"Avalon, it feels like forever since we have seen you." Cate tells me, her Italian accent lilting this late into the night. 

"Yes, and it would've been even longer if not for your meddling." I say, looking pointedly at Charlotte. She just smiles at me. "So it's a good thing that I did it when I did." She states, gesturing for me to sit. I do and she smiles like she's won. 

I glare at her but she ignores me, waiving over a waiter instead. She orders another of whatever she and Cate are having, he leaves quickly then, before I can ask him for just a glass of water. I groan but Charlotte ignores my annoyance saying, "So Ava, tell us how have you been?" I can't help but tense. I know they're well meaning but I've been dreading this question since I got dressed. I know what they're really asking about: they want to know where I stand with Daniel and Max. But I have nothing to tell. 

I reach for my drink when it's placed before me, can't help the pang of disappointment when zero alcohol, just some kind of juice, hits my tongue. Getting a little buzzed wouldn't have been a good Idea with a race tomorrow. Still, I swallow the urge to call the waiter back over, instead focusing on the girls before me. "I'm fine, could be better after today's results but all considered, I'm doing okay." 

They stare at me disbelievingly and I anxiously reach for my glass just for something to do. Are they really so insistant on hearing about my sex life, or rather, lack of one? But then, they start laughing. 

"Pay up." Cate tells her.

Charlotte passes her the 50$ dollar bill wordlessly. 

"Umm???" I question, raising my brow at the two. Cate merely waves me away, saying, "I bet Charlotte you wouldn't be able to go a minute without being angsty about the quali." Charlotte groans. "Don't talk to me." She declares. Cate giggles at the dramatics. I'm still trying to process what is happening.

"Wait, you two bet on me?" I question, not able to keep the hurt out of my voice. 

"Oh Ava," Charlotte now coos, reaching across the table so she can take my hand in hers. "Of course we did. What else is there to do on a race weekend?" She turns to Cate. "Speaking of which, you now owe me 100$, pay up." Cate grumbles to herself but still reaches into her purse for the fifty and a crisp, newer one, giving it to Charlotte without sparing her a glance. "Avalon what are you wearing?"

I'm still stuck on them betting, and the amounts at which they're doing it, but it's an easy answer, one that takes little thought, " _ Armani _ . Why? Am I giving your boy a run for his money?" I can't help but ask, winking at her. It's the only piece I own by them- well, besides for the shoes that came with the long, tight tan dress. But I don't wear kitten heels, so the Louboutins are once again making an appearance. 

Charlotte hums, taking in all of me, letting her eyes slip from my face to my chest to my waist, seemingly seriously considering now. I try to ignore the heat the rushes through me as she gives me a lopsided smile and says, "I don't know, give us a twirl." I laugh, even as a stand. 

The tables are spread out enough that our conversation can't be overheard, even so, I receive a few odd looks when I stand from my seat only to twirl for Cate and Charlotte, who consequently whistle and cat call. I retake my seat with red high on my cheeks. " _ So _ ? Do you think Charles should feel threatened?" I ask, only really half joking. Charlotte doesn't answer me, but she winks at me from across the table. "200 says your boys out of work by the end of the season." Cate says. Charlotte scowls. I hide a smirk behind a sip. 

"So what other brands are wooing you?" Cate asks excitedly. I huff.

"Who's to say I didn't buy it myself?"

They exchange a look, humor in their eyes. I cross my arms over my chest.

"Come on Ava, everyone knows you're not getting paid shit this year. I mean you're still sofa surfing wherever George goes. Besides, you're an F1 driver now, the only female on the grid. They should be paying you, not the other way around." 

I open my mouth to argue but then close it. I give up and answer the question, listing off the designer brands that have somehow gotten ahold of my ever changing address throughout the season. When I'm done Cate lets out a low whistle. "Next time there's a free week, we're going to Paris. You're like a golden ticket to all the best fashion houses in the city." I smile, try not to act like I'm not looking forward to that with all my heart. It's been so long since I talked about anything other than racing. But now, with these girls who I'm learning to love with each passing day, we discuss a love of mine that I've neglected for another. Fashion has always been an outlet of expression for me and up until now, there's been no one around to indulge in this love with, even as I've accumulated more "nice things" in the past couple of months then I have during the rest of my, albeit short, existence. 

As the stars make themselves known above the soaring glass ceiling on the top floor of the hotel, we talk all things beautiful and wearable. We toast to a shared passion- and an escape of sorts. With what's to come tomorrow, I know I'll need it. Miraculously, with mere hours to go, the flames are the last thing on my mind. And I couldn't be more grateful. 

***

Cate is the first to go, but not before hugging us both, wishing me luck for tomorrow, and leaving her tab open for the table. A saint, truly. 

Me and Charlotte stay for a while after, discussing her past trips to Paris, talking of where she will take me next time I am in Monaco. The way she talks so freely of stores who I know I can't afford, it's like that of a dream. I'm still surprised every time this world I've found myself in proves itself to be reality. Every aspect of it, from the cars to the fame to the friends I've made along the way, it all seems far too good to be true. And yet I know it's real, that it's actually happening when she slips into the seat beside me and takes my hand in hers as she wistfully talks about a beautiful childhood in the city by the water, as if without thought, unconscious. But it's all I can think about, how well our hands fit together beneath the table. How it doesn't feel awkward, but instead like easy intimacy. How easy it is with Charlotte. How easy she gives her love away. In moments like these, I can understand why out of all the women in the world, Charles Leclerc stays at the heels of Charlotte Sine. Once stuck in her orbit, to escape is a very difficult task. I can't imagine wanting too.

"You look tired." she says then, pulling me from my daydreaming, her brows knitting. "I'm keeping you up too late on a race night. This is my mistake." I rush to protest, to change her mind, tightening my hand in hers. She fixes me with a soft smile, even as she tells me, "Come now Ava, I wouldn't want to be at blame for you not being at your best tomorrow. Rain Check." She assures me. But I still have my hand in hers and she makes no move to pull away. I don't want another rain check, another promise for another night. I'm not tired, but calmed by this proximity. I don't want to lose this feeling, not tonight. I open my mouth to tell her as much but at that very moment, the men in red find us.

I smile at Charles as I slip my hand from his girlfriend's hold. She lets me go after a second too long, maintaining our eye contact. Then she's being swept up by him, into a tight embrace. Meanwhile Carlos makes himself comfortable in Cates vacated seat, just beside me. I reach for my glass, once again wishing for something stronger than juice. Carlos watches me with a smirk on his face, I do my best to pretend he isn't here. We haven't ever exchanged more then a few sentences and I'm not about to start now. But then Charles is whispering something in Charlotte's ear and they're both eyeing me with something I can't read. Then Charlotte says they'll be back in a minute and just like that, I'm alone with Carlos. The silence stretches on uncomfortably and I'm about to waive over the waiter, sobriety before a race be damned. But then Carlos finally opens his mouth and asks point blank, "You don't like me very much, do you." I look up then, meeting his eyes for the first time, surprised by his boldness. I decide to return the courtesy of honesty, telling him, "No, I don't." He cocks his head at me, as if being rejected is something foreign to him. I imagine it is. "Why?" I reach for my drink, remember it won't bring me any intoxicating relief, but still take a sip anyway. Anything to do to prolong doing this. Why here? Why now?

But I guess there will never be a good time to discuss this so I take a deep breath and say, "Because Carlos, you're a reminder that hate is still permitted in this sport as long as you have enough money. And that  _ sucks _ ." Carlos's easy smile drops. He's significantly less endearing when he thinks no one is watching, saying "So that's what this is about. You're the reason Lando's playing hard to get right now?" I can't help but scoff at that, even as this news makes me want to go find Lando and give him a hug. I'll do it later, for now I say, "hard to get? You mean hurt and betrayed." His eyes now narrow. "Hurt and betrayed? I did no such thing." I sigh. "Listen, I don't know your guy's relationship and frankly, I don't really care. But I can't imagine it's very hot, to fuck someone who's so homophobic they can't even admit they're into you. And don't try to deny that you're into him, if you weren't, you wouldn't be here, talking to me for the first time all season." Carlos's turn to scoff. "I'm not homophobic." I sigh. 

"Carlos I'm not here to hold your hand through self discovery. But anyone with any inkling into this sport knows your family, and in turn, knows who you choose to support. I mean, you can't tell me you don't know where your money goes. I don't know about you, but as someone who's gay as hell myself, I know I wouldn't be funding far right hate groups who spew hate speech and harmful propaganda." Carlos looks feral in that moment. He looks like I've hit too close to home. "Not everyone can grow up in sunny California where anything and everything is accepted, Avalon. You'd have me disowned by my family just to make your perfect little grid?" He hisses. I take a sip from my glass and don't look at him, I won't encourage him acting like this. "Take some responsibility Carlos. You're a grown ass man. It would be one thing if this was just a family matter, but you're in the public eye. Every donation you make tells some little queer kid out there that his hero says that part of him is wrong." I sigh. "Listen Carlos, I wasn't even talking about your sexuality anyway. I was talking about the fact that you did black face and still have a seat. I mean how do you even look Lewis in the eye? Or any black person for that matter. And you haven't even had the dignity to apologize." He just looks at me with exasperation. "That was a cultural thing Avalon." 

"So racism is part of you're culture?" 

"No!"

"Really?"

"Yes!" I'm about to open my mouth but before I can, he's getting up and storming off. So much for getting along with the grid. I look around, hoping there are no curious eyes to catch our heated exchange. I don't want to think about Claire's punishment for not keeping it cordial. Still, I don't regret a single word. 

*** 

Charles and Charlotte find me as I'm standing to leave, my drink empty. "Have a good night you guys." I tell them fondly. They both seem even more irresistible in the presence of one another. It's intoxicating. And honestly, hard to see. Hard to accept, for anyone who sees them I'm sure, that I will never be part of it. Never have that kind of intimacy. Especially with the person I most wanted it with. But then they are sliding up close beside me. Charlotte takes me hand, but before I can protest, Charles takes my other. Heat flows through me, from my cheeks to my core. I'm held down on either side. And i'm not about to complain. 

"You still want that raincheck?" I ask with a gulp.

"Nope." Charlotte says, as sure as ever. And who am I to argue?

***

Where my body is hard ridges, tundra giving into milky desert, Charlotte is all soft sand. Warmed by the sun. I don't have time to be self conscious of my new body, with how quickly these two gods give over their love. Im naked in no time. Splayed out on their bed even quicker. It happens in a blur. Like a dream. Too good to be true. I come up gasping for air, only for my pleas to be swallowed by hot mouths that promise more. 

***

Charles wakes us an hour before the two of us must depart. With a coffee pressed into my hands, and a loving kiss pressed to Charlotte's lips. Him and I go on a run in the early morning, before enough people are out for us to be recognized on these foreign streets. Charlotte's made us breakfast when we get back, food that would surely have our coaches proud. I send Charlotte a grateful look, and drink the green smoothie without taking a breath. It makes it easier to suppress the gagging. When we leave, it's with an open invitation to return that night.

***

The two of us pull into the private parking lot just as the lines are starting to snake around the entrance. I swing the door of the red car open only to find Charles already there, offering his hand.

"Thanks." I say tentatively as I take it and he helps to steady me on my 4- inch feels from last night. I really should've told my boys to bring me a set of sneakers, as it is, i'm just praying they remember my fireproofs. 

"Don't worry about it, besides Charlotte has trained me well." He jokes. I scoff at that but don't disagree. (I definitely don't think about the only other "well-trained" man I know.) With our close proximity, memories of the night before rise unbidden. Without thinking, and with my hand still in his, I reenact the night's previous intimacy. I reach up, straightening the red bandana just managing to keep the stray hair away. But just as I do, with my fingers in his hair, and his hands on my waist, I lock eyes with Daniel over his shoulder. And all I can see is- pain?

I can't look away fast enough, like a guilty child, even as Max wraps an arm around his shoulders and whispers in his ear something that makes him laugh. "It doesn't matter." I tell myself. Even as I drop my hand from Charles as if I've been burned. As if the damage, on both sides, hasn't already been done.

***

Needless to say, I do terribly that race. I barely make it into the top ten, my mind too busy replaying the way Daniel looked at me. How quickly he turned away. How he didn't turn quick enough to hide all that was written on his face. How much it hurt and confused me to see that.

I don't go back to Charles's that night, no matter how tempting the thought of losing myself to pleasure is. Tonight, I want a clear mind. Tonight, once again in bed with my boys, supportive arms wrapped tightly around me from all sides, I send the text I've been putting off for far too long now. The text that is long overdue. 

***

_ I think we should talk. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so hi.
> 
> Today marks two months since I last updated *sigh*
> 
> I'm really sorry for the really long wait, especially when I know we're at some what of a cross roads right now in the plot. All I can really say is that life really gets in the way sometimes. And to add to that, I really struggled writing this chapter. I've mentioned it before but I wanna tackle, as f1 would say "important issues" in this fic but sometimes that means writing sensitive conversations when I don't really feel that I know the best way to approach them. I'd love to know what y'all think of this update. I hope you liked it! It's almost 6k if you'll accept that as an apology of sorts.
> 
> I promise I'm going to be updating more frequently once the season starts again and with my classes almost being done for the year!
> 
> Finally, special thank you to paprikabadger! I don't know how to tag people on this so I don't know when you'll see this but thank you for checking in! I don't think this update would've come this week without it. As long as people still want to read this fic, I promise I'll keep sharing my little quarantine brain child with y'all (no matter how long it takes me to update, sorry bout that)
> 
> Anyway till next time y'all, please stay safe ❤


	23. The Weight Of Gravity

On a too-bright day in Hungary I make my way to the small cafe overlooking the city below. With it being late in the afternoon, most are at work or already home so I'm able to walk the streets freely, not bothering to hide my hair or dress down. In fact, with Charlotte and Cate's words still in my mind, I've spared no expense. 

Recently, I've felt the need to hide, to look as inconspicuous as possible. But this morning I'm dressed to impress- myself. I look like I did when all I was was just a beautiful girl who caught an F1 drivers eye. But I'm not dressing to be some pretty young thing on some older man's arm. I'm dressed to command a room. It gives me the confidence I need to do this this morning. 

I've never been good at confrontation. Not since the woman who raised me, who taught me to be me, disappeared without a trace. I've been holding myself together for almost 8 years now, no one but me against the world. Even with my sister, she as always instilled upon me a need to be able to be independent, self sufficient.

But if I've learned anything in these months, it's not that I need others, but that I desperately want them. I wouldn't be here without my boys. Without the men in this sport who have my back. And their women to hold me up when I fall. Even Daniel, I wouldn't be here without him. He weathered all of it, the betrayal of visiting Red Bull, and the worst of my anxiety when I was still juggling school and the first part of the season. 

I owe it to hear him out. I owe him this much at least.

***

I get there five minutes before we agreed to meet so I can have the higher ground. I pick a table in the corner by the windows, so I'll see him coming.

So when I see him coming, I resist the urge to bolt. Because it isn't Daniel who walks through those doors exactly five minutes later, But Max.

***

"What are you doing here?" I demand the second he sits down. He raises his eyebrows at me but I won't back down. Why the fuck is he here? Where is Daniel? What kind of sick joke is this?

"Have you ordered yet?" He asks, ignoring my glare, glancing at the menu before him.

"No." I tell him through gritted teeth, nails digging into my palms beneath the table. "And im going to be leaving if you don't tell me what the fuck you're doing here pretty damn quick." I don't bother to try to keep the anger from my voice. I see no reason too. This is the last thing I was expecting today, my mind already racing a mile a minute. Is this some cruel joke? Is Daniel in on it?

Max finally puts down the menu, only to raise a single blond brow at me, leaning back in his chair as if luxuriating in bed. I close my eyes against the memory of the time I did in fact find him luxuriating in bed. Flames burn behind my eyelids.

"I'm here as a courtesy."

"Oh really? How exactly is that?"

"Because, " he says, his voice just a little bit clipped now too, "if you keep insisting on carrying on this... Fling with Daniel, there are some things you should know."

He pauses then, waiting for me to take the bait, to ask him to be enlightened. But I don't bother playing his game, merely raising an eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. 

He does after a moment, taking a deep breath and saying, "That day in Monza, when you and Daniel first talked. He didn't seek you out because you caught his eye, because he thought you were beautiful beyond words and just had to have you. You two didn't meet because of destiny or any of that horse shit. He talked to you because we were on a break and he wanted to be a little shit and make me jealous. He only ever talked to you so he could beat me to it."

"What?" I can't help but ask, the flames momentarily forgotten to shock and confusion. "Are you trying to say that you were into me?" I struggle to understand the implication of those words right now. I know they're meant to cut, but I'm just bewildered. Max's scoff puts an end to my racing thoughts, "God no. I like people who look like they actually go out into the sun from time to time. You should try it some time, you'd look less like a ghost."

"Then why would you be trying to talk to me?" I ask, cutting him off before he can keep the insults coming. And he should really look in a mirror sometime. Something about the pot calling the kettle black and all that.

He eyes me with annoyance, even as he leans in conspiratorially now, his voice hushed when he speaks, "because Avalon, I recognized you."

I lean back, shocked. "What?!"

I rack my brain for memories of Max before Daniel. But there aren't any. I met Max when I met the rest of these men, when I joined the ranks or on Daniel's arm. Max merely blinks.

"You really don't remember me. I guess that's not a surprise. You were a little preoccupied after all." I can feel my eyebrows knitting together. What is he going on about? But with his next words, I feel my blood run cold. "I was there Avalon, nearly a decade ago now, on that track outside of my hometown in the Netherlands. I watched them peel you off the wall as you screamed until you blacked out from-"

"Thats enough." I cut him off. I can't breathe. I don't want to hear this. The last thing I want to do right now is relive that day.

Max looks just as happy to not go on, looking down at the table. All of a sudden, he seems to have no interest in looking at me.

"I thought you died." He says quietly, "My father told me you did. ''Anger now raising his voice, "used it as a teaching lesson. So I never forgot what would happen if I didn't listen to him perfectly." He looks at me, and in a flat voice says, "I'd end up dead just like you. So yes, on that day in Monza, I went after you. I thought I was seeing a ghost. Hell, I thought i'd died." He lets out a bitter laugh then, "But of course, Daniel got to you first."

"Why are you telling me this." I want to bolt. I can feel heat behind my eyes. Memories of pain and darkness and more pain. I don't want to cry in front of this man. Not again. 

Max sounds almost pitying when he speaks again. 

"Because you need to know it. You may think that Daniel loves you. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he thinks he does. He may of only approached you to make me jealous, but he's stuck around this long because you're his type, you're like me." He says, scorn back in his voice. "He has never been able to resist the young and beautiful ones with their eyes set on the prize. It reminds him of himself, makes him feel like he's still young and has got all the time in the world to achieve his dreams too. But I've been doing this little dance with him for over half a decade now. I know how this game goes. You've stuck around in his head longer than most, sure. But sooner or later, he'll get bored of you, he'll stop chasing you." 

He leans forward. "But he will always, always make his way back to my bed. He cant help himself."

"I still don't know why you're telling me this." I mean to sound unbothered, but my voice sounds weak even in my own ears.

He snears.

"Because you need to accept it or get the fuck off this grid. I'm sick and tired of dealing with jealousy on the track. You're going to get one of us killed. And for real this time if you don't get your shit together and accept that this is how it is. The quicker you can do that, the sooner we can go back to the way things are supposed to be. Not all this silly petty drama. I don't have time for it, not anymore. Do you understand now?" 

"You're an Ass, you know that? I used to think it was because of your father. I know a thing or two about shitty men who think we owe them anything. I used to make excuses for you, say that you, the man I looked up to, could change if only you could escape his grasp. But I see now that I was wrong. You haven't grown or matured in your time away from him. You're still just a scared little child who can't stand not having his cake and eating it too." I hiss. He bristles.

"You don't know what you're talking about. At least my father taught me how to do this shit safely. With the way you drive, you're going to kill one of us these days. There's a reason it took you this long to get here, why you only got here by sucking Daniel off. You don't belong. You will be gone soon enough, I just pray you don't take any of us with you."

"That's where you're wrong. " I tell him, grabbing my things, standing from the table. He doesn't bother trying to stop me. "You can have Daniel for all I care. I don't want him, he's not worth you and your shit. But just know, one day he'll realize it too. He may not spend eternity crawling back into my bed. But he sure as hell won't be crawling into yours for long either."

And with that, I'm out of there.

***

The second I'm free of that tiny restaurant is the second I'm running into a hard body. I flinch away immediately, but with my momentum and my heels I'm falling backwards, shocked and frozen. But before I can list too far, his arms are wrapping around my waist with all too much familiarity, keeping me from the cement below. 

"Avalon?" Daniel asks, not bothering to remove his arms from me, confusion clear on his face. "Are you leaving?" There's hurt now too. "I- I thought we were going to talk." And I'm struck in that second by the way he's looking at me, he looks- afraid. He's never looked like that because of me.

But then the bell above the door behind me rings, letting me know someone has come out of the restaurant. Daniel's eyes snap up, and I can see the understanding dawn on him as his face flits through too many emotions at once. I pull away from his hold and he lets me, I don't bother looking behind me, I already know it's Max, never one to be left out.

"I thought we were going to too." I tell the man before me, quietly, just for him. I don't bother to hide the pain in my own voice. I'm letting him go. I'm done. But I'm petty, I don't mind leaving him with a bad taste in his mouth. "Guess I was wrong." Then I turn and walk away from them both, he doesn't even try to stop me.

***

I stop walking when the sun begins to sink into the horizon, the sky turning a kaleidoscope of beautiful hues. There's a large grassy knoll tucked into the outskirts of the city and I sink to the green ground, pulling my heels from numb feet. Everything is numb. There are children playing in the playground on the far side, jumping and chasing each other. I'm sure they must be causing quite a commotion, their small mouths opening, care free glee spilling into the wind. But I can't hear it. All I can do is look out at the sky before me. In my time with my aunt, and later, when my parents bothered to act like they had daughters, I'd traversed the world. But of all the places I've been to, the sights I've been lucky enough to have seen, the places where stars are still visible have always been my favorite. 

The day my aunt left, we were somewhere in a bustling city in China. I'd been flown across a continent, to be seen by the best physicians in the world. I was a child and high as a kite. My parents were somewhere far too close, but as long as my aunt was there, it would be okay. She told me as much. Took my tiny hands in her callused ones, and told me to look out the window. We were on the top floor of a skyscraper, and the stars looked so close then. I thought surely, if I was just a little taller, I could reach out and grab them. Back when the impossible was still possible. But that would mean taking my hand from hers, and I never wanted to do that.

"Look baby, look at the stars." She told me. "If you ever need me, just look at the stars and know that I'm somewhere looking at them too. I will never leave you Avalon, I will always be looking out for you, even if we're worlds away." I was too high to respond. But I remember the tears on her cheeks, bright as the stars above. 

I miss her so much. 

It's only gotten worse, this far up in the clouds. She should've been here, not worlds away. I want to scream and cry and hit something or someone. But all I can do is sit there, and watch the stars, and let the pain crush me under the weight of my dreams.

***

"Avalon!" A voice finds me in the dark. "Avalon!" It's getting closer. But I don't bother to look. I don't want to take my eyes from the stars. 

But then he's before me, towering over me, blocking out the stars. He's kneeling just as quick. 

Big hands on my cheeks, my shoulders, my arms. Checking for something. His mouth is moving but it takes time to understand what he's saying and I'd rather not expend the energy. How pretty the stars are tonight. How pretty he is in the moonlight, even with worry marring his features. The word "cold" makes it through and I wonder if he's sick. It doesn't feel cold to me. But then he's taking off his jacket and wrapping it around me. Only then do I begin to resist. 

"Lewis- stop." I say, but the words sound slow even to me. Like I'm hopped up on far too much morphine all over again. But i'm not and I can feel the cold now. It's so fucking cold. The grass is icy beneath my feet, my limbs stiff. But then his arms are around me and he's lifting me from the grass bridal style, as if I am just a child. Just 20 years old, on the brink of 21, and lost in a foreign city. 

But Hamilton walks like he knows exactly where he's going and I drift off with his arms holding me close, his heart beating beneath my ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked the update.
> 
> It's a lil shorter than usual but I wanted to get it out sooner than later. 
> 
> I apologize in advance for the wait for the next chapter, I know its going to be a tough one to write which means ✨procrastination✨
> 
> Comments and feedback always help with the process though ❤
> 
> Stay healthy and happy,  
> till next time.
> 
> Ps. the Drive to Survive season 3 trailer dropped this morning and im not ready for them to do Alex dirty. Expect sweet moments with him in the future as my way of coping.


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